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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26486710">Just Like Jeralt</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dan_Francisco/pseuds/Monika-s%20Moniker'>Monika-s Moniker (Dan_Francisco)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Sleepwalkers [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adorable Russian diminuitives, Alternate Universe - World War I, Angst, Bayonet charges as flirting, Can be read stand-alone, Drama, F/M, Horrors of War, Leonie centric, Military Traditions, Romance, Timeskips, War</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 11:07:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>24,689</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26486710</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dan_Francisco/pseuds/Monika-s%20Moniker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Leonie Pinelli has but one goal – join the US Army and become like her idol, Colonel Jeralt Eisner. With the backing of Colorado and the Army behind her, Leonie heads to Garreg Mach to learn from the Europeans how to conduct war. Despite being surrounded by German nobles, an overbearing Russian prince, and knights from a church she’s never been in, Leonie’s goal remains unchanged. However Leonie learns quickly that in love and war, anything goes.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jeralt Reus Eisner &amp; Leonie Pinelli, Sylvain Jose Gautier/Leonie Pinelli</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Sleepwalkers [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1861168</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Badge</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Many thanks to Coyote for betaing this fic and putting up with all the stupid things I asked them about how to fix whatever bizarre writing thing I came up with or how to avoid using less commas!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Grand Junction, Colorado</em>
</p><p>
  <em>February 9<sup>th</sup>, 1898</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The day was warm, for February at least. Ten-year-old Leonie Pinelli, a girl out on the town with Dad’s hunting knife on her belt and a plan to find some small game to nab up, saw nothing ahead of her except for the gray mountains on the horizon and equally gray ground before her. In between the splotches of the gray, green poked out from between dusty bushes and trees, a signal of the incoming spring. She’d seen this horizon millions of times before, but that didn’t make it any less beautiful. Looking out into the plain, it felt like anything was possible, even for a small-town girl in Colorado.</p><p> </p><p>Today, however, there was trouble on the horizon. She could tell by the plumes of dust, unusual for this time of year. Winds never kicked up that much dirt, and not in that weirdly consistent pattern. Something was out there, that much Leonie knew, but she didn’t know what. Dad had always told her not to go too far out on her own, in case “the Indians” got her, but she didn’t know how to do that when she’d never seen one before. What’d they even look like, anyway? Maybe these people on horseback were them – they approached even closer, and Leonie could see they carried guns in long leather slings on their backs, clad in blue shirts and pants, dirt-covered boots, and pouches that had “U.S.” written on them. A man approached Leonie on horseback, facial hair covering his chin, a hard-set look in his eyes, and a scar on his cheek. His blonde hair was cut short, and he tipped up his cavalry hat to look down on Leonie.</p><p>“Hey, kid,” he said. “This Grand Junction?”</p><p>“Uh, y-yeah,” she replied. “You… you guys aren’t Indians, are you? My dad said to stay away from them.”</p><p> </p><p>The man looked at Leonie strangely, before looking at the others with him. They all wore the same uniform as well as the same bewildered expression. Finally, he turned back to Leonie and started to laugh. Was he laughing at her? “No, kid, we’re not Indians,” he said. “Name’s Jeralt Eisner. We’re with the United States Army. Where’s the mayor’s place?”</p><p>“Uh, that way,” Leonie said, pointing towards the old white house. Everybody knew the mayor, or at least she <em>thought</em> they did. Who were these guys, and what was this US Army they were talking about? This Jeralt guy had a weird way of talking too, now that she thought about it. Intensely curious, she followed him towards the mayor’s house, where he and the group got off their horses. Jeralt went inside, while the others milled around, breaking off pieces of what looked like really big biscuits. The men didn’t seem to pay her any mind, busy talking to themselves and tending to their horses. A lot of them had beards like Jeralt did, but some had really long, bushy beards and mustaches like Dad did. At least one of them was clean-shaven and he seemed to be getting the lion’s share of the jokes sent his way. It reminded Leonie a lot of how she hung around with the boys down at the mine, throwing rocks at them when they made fun of <em>her</em>.</p><p> </p><p>It must have been hours before Dad came by, and she relayed the story – as much as she knew about it anyway – about Grand Junction’s latest arrivals. He didn’t seem panicked, or even surprised by them, and smiled when the group got to talking to him. Jeralt came out not long after. Maybe he had just stopped by to say hi to the mayor?</p><p>“Still hanging around?” Jeralt asked, spotting her.</p><p>“Oh, uh…”</p><p>Dad laughed, making his way over to Jeralt. “Has she been following you gentlemen around? I’m sorry about that, sir.”</p><p>“She thought we were Indians. Warned her about them, did you?” Jeralt said.</p><p>“Yes, like I said I’m terribly sorry about all that, she-”</p><p>“No need to apologize for that. Truth be told, I’ve a daughter a few years older than her, better they learn early than never.”</p><p> </p><p>“Leonie, you thought they were Indians?” Dad said, turning back to her. “These fine gentlemen are <em>cavalry!”</em></p><p>Jeralt waved a hand, dismissing him. “It’s okay, honestly. I wanted to ask, you wouldn’t happen to know of a hotel we could stay in, do you?”</p><p>“There is one just down the road,” Dad said, pointing east. Yeah, <em>just</em> down the road. Heck, it was pretty much right next door to her house. “I’m sure Gilbert will take care of you there.”</p><p>Jeralt nodding, smiling. “Thank you, sir. You’ve been a great help, and we’ll be out of your hair soon enough.”</p><p> </p><p>Leonie couldn’t help but stare as they got back on their horses, the soldier’s jokes coming to an end as they stuffed bread and dry meats into different bags, riding off to the east. It was strange – these guys were kind of weird, what with their blue uniforms, goofy bags and strange hats, but something about the way Jeralt and the men he was with carried themselves spoke to her. It was like she had just gotten a glimpse into a secret club of some kind. And she wanted in.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Jeralt and his men – he called them his “troop” – stayed in Grand Junction for another few weeks, drinking at the bar Dad went to and hunting with them when they could. They were on edge about something – Leonie heard Dad talking to Jeralt about something called the “main” exploding somewhere in Cuba, wherever that was. It didn’t make much sense to Leonie, but it made Jeralt and his troop nervous and anxious. Jeralt didn’t like to talk much about stuff in Cuba unless it was with Dad, and instead talked to Leonie about the cavalry.</p><p> </p><p>She asked Jeralt about anything and everything she could think of. He told her about the cavalry, the traditions of the 2<sup>nd</sup> Cavalry Regiment, which he was part of, and lectured her on what it was like to be a soldier. Every part of it just made her fall even more head over heels for the cavalry life. According to Jeralt, she was the perfect fit. Hunter’s kids like her were specially sought after, since they made for good riders and were easy to train with the rifle he used, and Jeralt had even let Leonie shoot it a few times. She abandoned the prospect of using Jeralt’s rifle pretty quickly though, since shooting it gave her a sore shoulder and it was too heavy for her to use – better to stick to the varmint rifle Dad gave her. Jeralt told her what it took to join the Army, so Leonie immediately began training. Which, right now, mostly just consisted of running really far and practicing her “war face.” After all, if she wanted to be a soldier, start early, right?</p><p> </p><p>In April, when the spring air heated up and started to turn to summer, Jeralt and his troop got orders to head to Georgia. Their last few days in Grand Junction were spent like any other, split between drinking at the bar and milling around town. Jeralt made sure to check in with Leonie, however, unusually sober for the time of day he had found her.</p><p>“Alright kid, I got you a little something,” he said, kneeling down to her level. His equipment clattered against itself and he dug a little coin out of one of his pouches. It glittered like gold – maybe it <em>was</em> gold – as he turned it around in his fingers, presenting it to her. On one side, there were two crossed sabers etched into the coin’s face, while the other had “2<sup>nd</sup> Cavalry Regiment” written on it, with “1836” on the lower half.</p><p>“Wow,” Leonie breathed as the coin plopped into her hands. It felt heavy, though it felt like it was worth more than anything here in Grand Junction.</p><p>“This is called a challenge coin,” Jeralt said, taking out an identical coin from his shirt pocket. “What you do is, if you join the Regiment and someone calls out a coin check, you present this. It means you’re part of the unit. Treasure it, because if you lose that, you lose all challenges.”</p><p> </p><p>She blinked, staring at the crossed sabers. One small coin represented her dreams to go to the cavalry, follow in Jeralt’s footsteps and roam the plains to protect the States. It felt almost like it was speaking to her, harbored every lesson and quote Jeralt had ever uttered. How could she <em>not</em> keep this safe? “I will, Colonel,” she said, nodding with a resolute smile on her face. “When I grow up, I’m gonna join the Army and lead my own troop, just like you! Just you watch!”</p><p>Standing up, Jeralt nodded, with a smile tempered by… <em>something</em>, what exactly she didn’t know. Was he sad he was leaving? “I know you will. We’ve gotta go now, but keep an eye out for us after this business with Spain ends, alright?”</p><p>“I will. We’re gonna train together when you get back, right?”</p><p>“Sure thing,” Jeralt said, smiling. “See you in a few months, kid.”</p><p>The last Leonie ever saw of Colonel Jeralt, it was that day when he rode off into the sunset with his troop. Every day, she waited for Jeralt to pass back through Grand Junction, show her how much she had grown. She waited a month after the Spanish-American War ended, then a year, then two years. Jeralt didn’t show, but still she trained. It’d been the running and war face practice at first, then it turned into honing her marksman skills, then survival out in the wild, sometimes going off for weeks to see if she could do it. Leonie never let herself slip in her training. After all, what would it look like if he just showed up one day and she had abandoned her training? That would be unbecoming of a soldier.</p><p> </p><p>Leonie had to believe she’d see Jeralt again, if only to see the proud look on his face when he called a coin check and she met it. Or, even better, leading her own cavalry troop right into Jeralt’s home town.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>Garreg Mach Monastery, Bohemia</em>
</p><p>
  <em>January 4<sup>th</sup>, 1907</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The cold stung at her cheeks as Leonie tugged at the Army-issued greatcoat, moving in line with what felt like a million other cadets as they headed into Garreg Mach. Thanks in no small part to the efforts of Colorado’s Senator, Leonie was now in Europe with a fresh US Army commission and the chance to study at <em>the</em> premier academy, Garreg Mach. She didn’t know much about it – the Army said it was better than The Citadel, and she knew Jeralt had been here at some point – but she did know that here she’d learn everything that Jeralt taught her and more. Hell, she might even surpass him! It felt good to really get out there, see the world, even if she had to use French the entire time she was here. Leonie had never much figured out why the Army wanted her to know <em>French</em> when she’d just be living and soldiering in the US her whole life, but it looked like it was going to come in handy.</p><p> </p><p>Her classmates were all Germans, though, aside from one guy that spoke with the most obnoxious British accent she could imagine. The school’s staff said she and her classmates were the Golden Deer, representing the German Empire – except her and this other guy, Laurence or whatever his name was – in their studies here at Garreg Mach. Man, if only Jeralt could see her now. She’d followed in his footsteps as best she could, from carrying the challenge coin in her pocket every day to implementing every lesson and quote he’d uttered. Leonie could see the path ahead of her now – a few years here at Garreg Mach with some stuffy Europeans and entirely too much French for her liking, then back home to roam the Great Plains, keeping America safe from all enemies foreign and domestic. She might even be under Colonel Jeralt’s command. How amazing would <em>that</em> be?</p><p> </p><p>That was the future, though. Right now, she was standing in some field in the Bohemian mountains, watching her breath freeze in front of her as people she didn’t know gave long speeches in French she only half-understood. Leonie stood out with her blue uniform, not at all like the Germans in their greens and Russians with their khaki. It was nothing short of claustrophobic. Still, she was expected to survive here, learn from the best Europe had to offer, and learn she would. She had to – anything else would shame her family, her town, hell, all of Colorado even. She owed them for being able to get her here, there wasn’t time to do anything else but train.</p><p> </p><p>Eventually, the speeches ended and the students were shuffled into a grand entrance hall, allowed to speak to each other in a much more enclosed and comfortable space. To say the hall was grand felt like a disservice – the room was <em>huge,</em> way bigger than she had expected, and she was only on the first floor. She could easily see at least six barns fitting in this place. Grand arches stretched across the ceiling, supported by pillars the size of trees, while banners hung from the vaulted ceiling that proudly displayed the Bohemian crest. As she neared the second floor guards wearing strange, puffy uniforms flanked them, watching over the students with lances. Already, she could hear people talking to each other in German, French, Russian and what sounded a lot like Italian, but what did she know? All she cared about was making it back to the US with everything she could learn and applying the knowledge to her new job.</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, you must be the American,” the posh English guy said. He carried himself with everything Leonie figured went into being a noble, a smarmy expression on his face and a stupid haircut that looked like something had gone horribly wrong at the barbershop. He had a fabric rose on his chest, intertwined with his British uniform as he held a curled hand up to him, as if recoiling away from something undesirable.</p><p>“Yeah, I am,” Leonie said. “Name’s Leonie Pinelli, Second Lieutenant, United States Army. You’re… Laurence, right?”</p><p>“<em>Lorenz,</em>” he corrected, chuckling to himself. “Lorenz Hellman Gloucester is my full name, heir to House Gloucester. I must admit, you have piqued my curiosity. What is an American doing here?”</p><p>Leonie furrowed her brow, folding her arms. “What’s it to you? I’m here, aren’t I?”</p><p>“Yes, rather curiously so. Did you accompany our new professor here?”</p><p>“What new professor?” she asked. How was she supposed to know who was and wasn’t new? Wasn’t this their first year here, anyway? So how’d <em>this</em> guy know? In response, Lorenz simply gestured down the hall, where the faculty awaited. More people speaking languages she didn’t know and this time they sounded like they were a <em>hell</em> of a lot better at speaking French than she was. They even switched between French to German and Russian. Lorenz pointed her to a woman who was just about Leonie’s height, with dark hair that looked almost sapphire in this light. Well, heck, if there was an American professor, might as well introduce herself. Common ground, right?</p><p> </p><p>Leonie worked her way up towards the “new” professor, who somehow had already been surrounded and swarmed by dozens of other students. One of whom was the appointed leader of her class, Claude von… something, she didn’t quite remember. The other two had to be kings and queens, right? Or at least the people next in line for their thrones. Someone had told her, but in the rush of getting everything together and trying to translate from French to English she lost half of what anyone had said to her.</p><p>“Good afternoon! I’m Second Lieutenant Pinelli, United States Army,” Leonie said, extending a hand the second she got close to the professor. The professor’s eyebrows rose at Leonie’s English, and then even further when she said “US Army.”</p><p>“Oh, hello,” the professor said, sounding really… just kind of out of it. “Uh, I’m Professor Byleth Eisner. I’m glad to have met you.”</p><p><em>Wait. Eisner?</em> That was Jeralt’s last name. There was no way this was a coincidence, right? Leonie was about to ask what was going on when she was pushed out of the way by a gaggle of other students, preventing her from being able to do anything other than look on.</p><p> </p><p>“<em><span>Plokhoy den’</span>?</em>” Who was that talking to her? She looked around, finding herself suddenly face to face with a guy with red hair that looked terribly unkempt, resting a hand behind his head and… winking at her?</p><p>“Uh… I don’t speak Russian,” she said, blinking.</p><p>“How’s your French?” he asked, swapping over to the language like nothing had changed.</p><p>Leonie sighed, shaking her head. Guess he was going to be insistent, huh? “I can speak it… well, not <em>great,</em> but…”</p><p>“Don’t worry about it, your pronunciation is fine.” The guy bowed deeply, even going so far as to take her hand in his and kissing it gently. Was this how nobles greeted each other? He knew she wasn’t one of those, right? Still… it felt a little nice. “My name is Sylvain Jose Gautier. And you are?”</p><p>Great. Another introduction. Leonie sighed, pulling her hand away and frowning. “Second Lieutenant Pinelli, United States Army. Are you… Russian or French?”</p><p> </p><p>“Russian by birth, but my parents are French.” He winked at her again – why was he doing that? Was something in his eye? - before heading towards a group of clustered Russians. “I have a feeling we’ll run into each other again sometime. I’ll see you around, Lieutenant Pinelli.”</p><p>She watched Sylvain walk away, furrowing her brow. What was <em>his</em> deal? Whatever, she didn’t have time to deal with him. Where was Professor Eisner? She had to confirm this wasn’t just some bizarre coincidence. Leonie tried to push her way through the crowd and find the Professor again, but her search was fruitless. Had she already left? Disappointing. The initial meet and greet was wrapping up, and people were heading to their rooms. She had a lot of stuff to unpack, and a <em>lot</em> of acclimating to do. Leonie would have to learn a lot quickly if she wanted to survive here at Garreg Mach. Already, there was so much to get used to. Learning in French, studying with nobles of what felt like a million different houses and titled lands, not to mention the military training that was sure to differ from the ways the US Army had taught her.</p><p> </p><p>Her room was rather barebones, all things considered. A bed, a desk with a hutch, and a simple dresser for her clothes and anything else she needed. Simple bookshelf for, well, books. A small closet provided space for her to hang her coats and already she had been provided with the uniform of Garreg Mach’s Officer’s Academy: a stark black formal uniform with gold accents. Everything looked vaguely familiar with skirts and garrison caps. Well, it’d be nice in winter, but she dreaded what the stiff wool would feel like in the middle of summer even if the summer uniform was a bit lighter.</p><p> </p><p>Leonie sighed, taking a break from unpacking to look out the small window that was her only view of the outside world. Garreg Mach’s peaks were covered with snow, dusting some of the lower points of the monastery itself. Tomorrow, she’d have to head out and figure out a way to mail letters home. Until then… finish unpacking and start training. The Academy had its own schedule, but Leonie didn’t like to wait. Not when there was work to be done.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Burden</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Leonie visits the market, tries to study, and participates in the Academy's first mock battle.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>Garreg Mach Monastery, Bohemia</em>
</p><p><em>January 20<sup>th</sup>, 1907</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Learning French was easy, or so Leonie thought. She’d figured out the most important things pretty quickly, and back home her teachers had told her she spoke as well as a native speaker. But Hanneman taught solely in French and spoke it so quickly – and with an accent, even – that Leonie found it difficult to follow. Her notes were a haphazard mess of English and French, filling in whatever she couldn’t figure out with speculation and wild guesses. As if that wasn’t the worst thing, Hanneman also spoke fluent German, a language shared by what felt like 90% of the entire Golden Deer classroom. Claude von Riegan would switch from French to German in the snap of a finger, asking Hanneman something to which he’d reply in German as well. She was losing <em>so much</em> from not knowing how to even say “hello” in German.</p><p> </p><p>Grousing about it wouldn’t get Leonie anywhere, though. She just had to train harder to make up for it, she decided. However that in itself became problematic. Hanneman didn’t much focus on shooting, that was something he typically skipped over in favor of tactical procedures and examinations of historical battles, but he <em>did</em> teach everyone who was willing how to properly ride a horse. This Leonie found she excelled in. If Jeralt excelled in it, then she had to as well. It was only natural. January’s bitter cold made it difficult to train up all the skills needed to be a cavalry officer, of course, so for now they were limited to simple riding techniques. This also led to far more theoretical lessons and lectures, concerning logistics and how to calculate them, treatises on preparing for battles, geographical survey courses, and of course map reading skills. Stuffed in between these lectures were short, informal lessons on how to draw military maps and sketches with a reasonable level of accuracy.</p><p> </p><p>Every time Leonie compared her sketches to Ignatz’s though, she felt as if she was already behind. Ignatz was over there making art with each sketch, while Leonie’s looked more like kid’s drawings. How did he have such a talent for this stuff? Leonie tried to replicate his map’s legends every time she drew a map, but it always came out looking like a mess. His looked like they belonged in museums or in their textbooks as picture-perfect examples. Half of her wanted to see if she could convince him to come back with her and become an official cartographer.</p><p> </p><p>Every part of the monastery was beautiful, totally unlike the buildings she had left behind in the States. She’d heard this place had been around since the 1500s, but it didn’t look or feel like it. It felt timeless, like the entire monastery had just sprung up overnight, or as if it was first built way back before time itself existed. Back home, the oldest building was maybe about thirty years old, and the oldest place she’d personally been in was built in 1842. Here, even a simple <em>house</em> was older than that, and that fact alone blew her mind. Then again, given she was surrounded by nobles and people who belonged to families so old and established everyone was half-related to one another in some ridiculous convoluted fashion, maybe that wasn’t all too surprising. A biting chill of wind brought her back to the present. The snow-covered peaks of Garreg Mach cooled the air almost constantly, almost exactly like she remembered the air feeling like in Colorado. Leonie preferred wandering about Garreg Mach when she had free time, if only to keep herself moving. Too many days in a chair might make her fat and lazy, after all, and Jeralt would never be like that.</p><p> </p><p>Leonie tugged her greatcoat’s sleeves down, having rolled them up slightly to adjust her gloves. Despite the cold, it was still a decent day to go out and about, and as she approached the monastery’s built-in marketplace, she could see that she wasn’t the only person of that opinion. There were a lot of students from other classes here, some familiar and many not, either buying things from local merchants or desperately trying to sell off something of dubious value. Through the crowd, she spotted a familiar patch of red hair. That was one of the Russians, right? Sylvain?</p><p> </p><p>She headed down the stairs, making her way through the crowd. Sylvain was here, alright, and he had his arm wrapped around some girl. She wasn’t in the Academy, couldn’t have been since she didn’t wear the uniform. Maybe someone in the Church, or a local? Who knew. She headed deeper into the marketplace intent to find a hunting knife, which somehow made her and Sylvain cross paths. He was saying something in French to his companion, very sweet things that Leonie wasn’t entirely sure he meant. “Your beauty is a sight to behold, my lady,” he crooned, flashing that smile and winking again. Okay, so that winking was just part of his gambit. Leonie had it figured out now. She didn’t hear his companion’s response as she left earshot, not that she really <em>wanted</em> to. She didn’t have time for that kind of tomfoolery, she had too much training to do. No time for love, right? Right.</p><p> </p><p>Though, she <em>had</em> heard Jeralt found his wife here. If Leonie was in Professor Eisner’s class, maybe she could ask her about it, but… no. No point to it. Anything that didn’t make her as strong and smart as Jeralt wasn’t worth doing. And yet, Leonie couldn’t get the image of Sylvain with his arm around that girl’s shoulders out of her head. It didn’t make any sense to her. She wasn’t impressed by Sylvain’s noble lineage, and if what little she had heard him say was how he talked to <em>all</em> girls he was enamored with, well, that didn’t much appeal to her either. Best to just push it out. Maybe she could convince the range sergeants to let her do some shooting. That’d be nice. Leonie managed to find a knife that was perfect for hunting, paying for it with the small leftover money from her stipend and heading out to the range.</p><p> </p><p>Thankfully, the range sergeants were in a kind mood, and let her take the old rifles out for some well-deserved shooting on the condition she cleaned each one to a gold standard when she was done. That was easy enough – they were just like the guns Dad had when she lived in Colorado, just a bit longer and shooting different ammo. She could clean these in her sleep. Paper targets provided the perfect backdrop to train up her marksman skills, even with blinding snow making it hard to read some of them. Leonie decided to only use one rifle for today, but each one needed cleaning since <em>some</em> nobles – Lorenz among the primary suspects – considered weapon maintenance beneath them.</p><p> </p><p>Leonie ended her marksman training with the air full of the smell of black powder, exhaling heavily as she normalized her breathing. Time to break everything down and clean. She arranged the oil, lubricant, cleaning patches and two rags in the exact order she would need them, methodically disassembling the rifle on top of an olive drab tarp the range sergeants provided for her. In a way, cleaning each rifle was relaxing. For one, it was a break from studies and training, and indirectly it <em>was</em> training, by teaching her to pay attention to details in all their forms. Disassembly demanded precision, so as not to break anything. Cleaning required examining fine details for <em>any</em> speck of dirt or rogue black powder. Reassembling the weapon meant she had to remember how to put it together and ensure it still worked smoothly. After all, stripping off all of a weapon’s lubrication could damage it, or even worse, render it inoperable.</p><p> </p><p>Still, her mind wandered to Jeralt and his child, Professor Eisner. She couldn’t help but think about when they first met, how… <em>strangely</em> Professor Eisner had acted. It was like she wasn’t even confident in her own abilities. Surely any kid of Jeralt would be qualified to teach here, right? It just made sense. The Academy wouldn’t have invited her if they didn’t think she would help them out. Did Jeralt ever feel that way? Probably not. If Jeralt could see Leonie now… well, he ought to be proud of her. She’d done everything she’d promised, and more. Who would have thought the rural girl from Colorado would be here at Garreg Mach, rubbing elbows with pretty much every important European noble to ever exist?</p><p> </p><p>The bells began to chime. That signaled the end of the student’s free time for today and the beginning of study hall. Leonie carefully put back each rifle in its proper place, as well as organizing the cleaning kit. A quick stop by her room to get her books and some paper and pencil wouldn’t take too long, just in time to get to class and get started on her own studies. With luck, maybe Professor Eisner would be at study hall and she could figure out what Jeralt had taught her. After all, she had to have learned <em>some</em> things from him, right?</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Leonie sighed, trying to make sense of the chemistry in front of her. Study hall was fine as long as she was studying things that made sense. They said that good officers should have a wide breadth of knowledge, but so far she felt like she was losing more knowledge than she was retaining. At least with military tactics, she had that down, but trying to study the more theoretical subjects like chemistry, biology, and political science was like climbing a landslide.</p><p> </p><p>Thankfully, she wasn’t alone – her classmate, Raphael Kirsten, struggled just as much as she did. His English was a bit accented, making it hard to understand him at times, but they both had a love for well-cooked meat and their training sessions together always went well. Leonie was pretty sure that she had spotted him carrying the monastery’s sole Maxim gun down the mountain yesterday as part of his training.</p><p> </p><p>“Man, I’m no good at this stuff,” Raphael muttered. He tossed his pencil down, his chair creaking as he leaned back and shook his head. “I’ll never be an officer at this rate.”</p><p>“Well, we have to try, right?” Leonie said. “I mean, a lot of people graduate from the Academy, so it’s not like there’s a huge competition.”</p><p>Raphael shrugged. He leaned forward again to stare at his chemistry book, like he was trying to interrogate it for knowledge. “I don’t know. I’m sure you’ll be fine, going back to America and all. But me? I’ve gotta compete with all these guys,” he gestured vaguely to the others in the Golden Deer house, almost all of whom were nobles in some fashion or another. “If I can’t be an officer… well…”</p><p>“Yeah, you told me,” Leonie said, frowning. “Your sister, right?”</p><p> </p><p>Raphael nodded. “Yeah, she’s way smarter than me, really. She ought to be here, not me.”</p><p>“I thought being an officer was all you wanted, though?”</p><p>“Yeah! I was talking to my grandpa and he said I should join the Army! He said he had fought the French way back when, and the officers were always these great people! So I figured, why not be an officer?”</p><p>Raphael had told her a lot about his path to get here. He trained harder and longer than anyone else, Leonie herself included, which made her poke into <em>why</em> he did all this. He relayed that his parents had passed on a trip to the UK to judge some art for a German noble, and their ship had been lost at sea. That in turn prompted him to sell everything and pay his way to Garreg Mach on his own.</p><p>“Hey, so, your sister, she’s still with your grandpa, right?” Leonie asked. “How’s she doing?”</p><p>“Oh, she’s doing great. I write to her almost every day! Oh, actually, I need to get her a gift, her birthday’s coming up…” He started speaking to Hilda in German, who replied with something that made Raphael shrink a bit. “Uh, Hilda says we should get back to studying before Hanneman gets on our case.”</p><p> </p><p>Leonie nodded, turning back to chemistry. God, this was so <em>boring.</em> How were Marianne and Lysithea able to master this stuff so well? Not even five minutes passed before she glanced up again. Just across the study hall, Leonie saw the Blue Lions class, deep in study. Well, all except for Sylvain. He was far less focused on his studies, and much more focused on Ingrid next to him. He had crept his hand across her shoulders, pointing to something on the pages in her textbook. Ingrid wasn’t having any of this, and quite literally shoved Sylvain off her shoulder, undoubtedly snapping at him in Russian. Well, at least not <em>everyone</em> was entirely enamored with the way he acted. Maybe if Sylvain spent less time flirting and more time studying, people like Ingrid would care. Back to chemistry, and back to… not really learning a lot. Leonie never had figured out what “effective studying” was. Training was easy; do it over and over again until you got it right. How the heck was she supposed to study something she couldn’t touch or do? Maybe not knowing chemistry wouldn’t be the end of the world for her. Colonel Jeralt had said once that she should report facts and nothing more. Right now, the fact was she didn’t know anything about chemistry and couldn’t figure out how to learn it. Therefore, if she didn’t have the chops to be as book-smart as some of these nobles, then she just had to be a better soldier through and through. The first mock battle was coming up soon, the perfect time to show how skilled she was as a soldier. European training had nothing on the US Army.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p><em>Somewhere near Garreg Mach Monastery, Bohemia</em>
</p><p><em>April 12<sup>th</sup>, 1907</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The morning of the Academy’s first mock battle was chilly. Certainly not as biting cold as it had been during the winter months, but many cadets still wore heavier jackets and overcoats rather than the standard uniform, each one accented in the regimental colors of their class. Leonie’s jacket, and that of the other Golden Deer around her, acknowledged their namesake with yellow trim. She had briefly seen the Russians with their blue accents, while the members of the Black Eagles claimed a deep crimson hue for their uniforms. From a distance, it was hard to tell individual class members apart, but up in close quarters it was unmistakable.</p><p> </p><p>Further complementing their dress for war were the heavy rifles from an earlier era and the twenty rounds of blank ammunition. Pouches for the ammo, a water canteen, and a rubber bayonet for their rifle filled out the other accouterments in their soldier’s kit. As far as Leonie could see, the green fields of Bohemia almost perfectly represented the ideal battlefield. Small rolling hills concealed the movements of the Black Eagles and Blue Lions and patches of trees provided excellent cover for potential recon missions.</p><p> </p><p>Ahead of them was Hanneman, wearing a simple uniform much like the ones Leonie and her classmates wore, directing their movements with gestures of his swagger stick. “Alright, <em>männer!</em>” he yelled, casting his eyes across the field. “We move<em> greifen an,</em> you three move and <em>Flankenangriff!</em>"</p><p>Leonie blinked, trying to wrap her head around what the hell had come out of his mouth. “<em>What?</em>”</p><p>“I think he wants us to attack on the flank,” Raphael said, adjusting his grip on the rifle. The others had already started running. They must have understood the plan better than she did.</p><p>“Leonie!” Hanneman called, using his swagger stick to point at some trees. “<em>Hinterhalt!</em> Over there!”
</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t speak German!” Leonie yelled back, making sure to enunciate every bit of French as cleanly as possible.</p><p>“Like in class! The lecture on March 14<sup>th</sup>!” 
</p><p><span><em>Okay, there we </em></span><span>go. Leonie had it figured out now. Ambush. She fell in behind Raphael and Ignatz as they ran in double-time to the forest, hoping to cut off a potential flanking force from the Blue Lions. As she ran, she tracked the progress of her fellow students. </span>The main attack force, composed of Claude, Hilda, Marianne, Lorenz and Lysithea, surged forward to meet a similar force from the Black Eagles, with unfamiliar supporting students on both sides. Flashes of gunpowder lit up faces for only brief seconds until each side closed into bayonet range, prompting a chaotic mass of close-in fighting. The Golden Deer made contact with the Black Eagles first, with Hilda leading a charge right into the center of enemy lines. Whether it was working or not was beyond Leonie’s powers of perception. All she could do was claim as many “kills” as possible for the Golden Deer.</p><p> </p><p>Leonie had no issue getting low to the ground, crawling along the forest floor to keep herself hidden among the underbrush and fallen branches. A recent rain meant the ground was muddy – woe upon her come laundry day, unfortunately, but such was the price of combat – but this only aided her stealthy approach. Raphael saw no problem hitting the dirt either, thankfully, but Ignatz stood relatively tall among them, crouching low with his rifle in hand.</p><p>“Get <em>down!</em>” Leonie hissed, doing her best to remember all her military French. How much of it did she truly retain while stuffing her head with all that other knowledge? No better time to find out than now.</p><p>“T-the uniforms though,” Ignatz replied, pushing his glasses up his nose. “If we get the uniforms dirty, then-”</p><p>“It won’t matter if we <em>die!</em> This might be training, but we need to treat it like reality!” If nothing else, <em>that</em> was a mantra Colonel Jeralt had pounded into her head. <em>Training </em><em><b>is</b></em><em> reality.</em></p><p> </p><p>Gunshots rang out on the left. Looks like the Black Eagles had made first contact with the Golden Deer’s main force. Leonie edged ever closer to the perimeter of the forest, peering out and observing what little she could from her position. The Blue Lions were just ahead of her, Dimitri and Dedue leading the way. It didn’t look like they had spotted her, or Raphael. Good, that would make this easier. They must have been moving to take control of a hill that would afford them a good vantage point of the battle, which meant they’d be heading towards Leonie, Raphael and Ignatz, right into their ambush.</p><p>“Claude’s pulling back!” Ignatz said, panic filling his voice. “Hilda and Marianne are out too! What do we do?”</p><p>“We wait,” Leonie shot back. “The Blue Lions don’t know we’re here, if we’re careful we can make them think there’s a lot more of us here than there actually are.”</p><p>Raphael chuckled, shouldering his rifle. “Well heck, this ought to be easy! I’d like to see them get through us!”</p><p> </p><p>Just a little bit longer, and then they could open fire. If they pulled the trigger too early, they’d be able to break off. Too late, and the gambit would fail and they could be spotted. But, if they waited just the right amount of time, Dimitri and his Blue Lions would be perfectly caught unawares, thinking they were in a safe zone and then all hell breaking loose around them. She could see it playing out in front of her now – Dimitri and Dedue would charge forward. The two in the back would retreat, and the rest would stand still, trying to decide where to go while the ambush cut them down.</p><p> </p><p>“Now!” Leonie shouted, already opening fire. “Shoot!”</p><p>Even though the rounds were blank, there was still a hard hit of recoil that slammed against her shoulder as she pulled the trigger. Leonie went through a very familiar process. Open breech, new round in, ready to shoot. Just like she had trained. Raphael and Ignatz supported her, firing staccato to give the illusion of more than just three shooters. Leonie looked down the sights once more to see Dimitri and Dedue had done just like she expected, but unexpectedly, the others kept moving forwards as well. Some of them walked off dejectedly, probably having called themselves “out” but even more just advanced, firing back like nothing was wrong. What was happening?</p><p> </p><p>Ignatz yelled something in German to which Raphael responded. Leonie didn’t pay much attention to it. Had to keep pouring fire on the Blue Lions. The sound of boots stomping across the ground, breaking branches and sending flecks of dirt everywhere, crossed her ears. Hanneman must have sent reinforcements to them to bolster their ambush. Why was the Russian in her sights waving at her? And why the hell was he smiling like that?</p><p> </p><p>She got her answer when Russian began to emanate from their right flank. Before she could comprehend it, someone had rolled her onto her back forcefully, and Leonie looked up to see Sylvain, Ingrid and somebody she didn’t recognize – was his name Ashe? - standing above her, rifles in hand. Raphael had called himself out, Ignatz seemed to have just bolted, while Sylvain looked down on her and winked as he held his rubber bayonet to her throat. “Sorry about that, Lieutenant, but it looks like I’ve killed you.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Ballroom</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The Winter Solstice Ball approaches, but unexpected visitors and confessions distract Leonie from dancing.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>Garreg Mach Monastery, Bohemia</em>
</p><p><em>May 7<sup>th</sup>, 1907</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Early lunches were one of the few luxuries Leonie gave herself, especially when the cooks offered dishes full of meats. As she expected, the dining hall was full of people. Students mingled in between classes, faculty ate either alone or with colleagues, while the soldiers assigned to protect the monastery huddled in groups away from the nobles. The kitchen was abuzz with a horde of chefs that worked tirelessly to serve enough food to satisfy the wide palates at play. Nearly everyone was here.</p><p> </p><p>As she scanned across the room though, Leonie saw a face that she was <em>sure</em> she’d seen before. She stared at the new person for probably longer than necessary until the realization hit her like a train. It couldn't be, right? There was no way that Colonel Jeralt was here, with Professor Eisner, eating lunch at Garreg Mach. It just didn’t make any sense. Her mind running a million miles an hour, Leonie walked towards the Professor and the man she held up as the ideal soldier, trying to figure out what in the world to say. Should she say she was grateful to see him again? Ask to speak to him alone? Or just sit down next to him and hope nobody would look at her strangely?</p><p> </p><p>She ungraciously plopped down next to Jeralt with a shocked look on her face as Professor Eisner and the man himself looked on. Leonie didn’t know what to say, but she knew she had to say <em>something</em>, right? It only made sense. People don’t usually just go up to others and silently sit down and start eating, but her mind remained traitorously blank.</p><p>“Hey, Leonie,” Jeralt finally said, saving them from silence. “Byleth told me you were a student here.”</p><p>Wait, he already knew? Of course he did! How couldn’t he? “Uh, y-yeah, I… I followed in your footsteps, Colonel.”</p><p>“Dispense with the ‘Colonel’ crap,” he said, frowning. “I’m not in the Army anymore. So, you followed me, huh? Join the cavalry yet?”</p><p>Leonie swallowed her potato hash with a heavy gulp, desperately wishing she had gotten some water. What was wrong with her? She usually had this under control! “Sorry, I… well, I’m set to when I return Stateside, but until then I’m just going here.” <em>Duh, Leonie. Obviously. That’s why you’re sitting next to him in the dining hall.</em> “So, uh, what are <em>you</em> doing here?”</p><p> </p><p>Jeralt smiled, turning back to Professor Eisner. “Well, I came to see how the kid’s doing, what with being thrown into this teaching position and all. Wanted to make sure the Catholics weren’t trying to pull a fast one on her.”</p><p>“Dad, I’ll be fine,” Professor Eisner said. So, the rumors were definitely true then, she <em>was</em> Jeralt’s kid. Weird, they didn’t look that much alike. So then she’d have to train harder then, do her best to impress Professor Eisner. And if she was tutored by Jeralt’s kid, well… that was even better.</p><p>“How long are you going to be staying?” Leonie asked. “I’d love to get some training in with you!”</p><p>“I don’t know,” he admitted, shrugging. “I have a decent amount of free time, but… there’s some things here I need to take care of. I might be here for the rest of the year, or I may just as easily travel back to the United States before winter.”</p><p> </p><p>Well, short as it may be, at least it was <em>some</em> time with him. Leonie had so much to ask him about, things to share… it was like she was a kid again, looking up to Jeralt with the same wonder and excitement that had consumed her when she was just ten years old. Jeralt had finally seen Leonie hit one of her goals, and if she had anything to say about it, he’d see her become the best damn officer the United States Army had ever seen.</p><p>“Oh, I almost forgot!” Leonie exclaimed, digging her challenge coin out of her pocket and slamming it down on the table. Jeralt stared at it for a moment before a smile crossed his face. Without nearly as much energy as she had, Jeralt took his own coin out and laid it down causing it to rattle against the wood as it settled down.</p><p>“I knew you’d keep it,” Jeralt said as he nodding approvingly. “Glad to see it again, Leonie.”</p><p>Leonie smiled back as she looked across the table. Professor Eisner was just staring at them, confused and totally lost without a coin of her own. An air of superiority came over Leonie, proud in her display to Jeralt. She <em>was</em> the favored daughter, after all, of <em>course</em> she could produce the challenge coin.</p><p> </p><p>This good feeling came crashing to a halt when she realized that, for one, she wasn’t even actually Jeralt’s daughter. Leonie was just a kid he had met in Colorado, with no actual relation. Now that she thought about it… did this coin even <em>mean</em> anything to Jeralt if his own flesh and blood didn’t have one? She picked the challenge coin up, turning it over in her hand as Jeralt and Professor Eisner spoke to each other in German, trying to figure out what this thing really <em>meant.</em> The crossed sabers sat below the US Army motto, <em>This We’ll Defend.</em> What did Jeralt see when he read that?</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p><em>Garreg Mach Monastery, Bohemia</em>
</p><p><em>December 14<sup>th</sup>, 1907</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Leonie had a problem, and his name was Sylvain Jose Gautier.</p><p> </p><p>In truth, it made absolutely zero sense to her. She didn’t particularly <em>like</em> him, so how come she got so bent out of shape when he paid attention to other girls? How come whenever he lavished attention on some random woman in the street, she felt a flash of jealousy consume her? How come whenever he just saw her, said “hello” and moved on with his day, it was more offensive than holding a literal knife to her throat? Leonie had seen him all around – not just Garreg Mach, but the entire <em>town – </em>arm in arm with whoever he had spotted across the market that day, wooing women and leaving broken hearts left and right. But when he saw <em>her?</em> He didn’t see another heart to conquer, he just saw Lieutenant Pinelli, United States Army. Granted, she never <em>wanted</em> him to look at her that way, but he had paid attention to her in a way nobody else had when she arrived and now it was like she was invisible. So why the <em>hell</em> had Sylvain just dropped it all like nothing ever happened?</p><p> </p><p>She had to fix this. Sylvain was in the entrance hall, heading towards the monastery itself when she finally tracked him down. Looked like he was busy, but was he really ever <em>truly</em> busy? He might have just been faking it for Professor Casagranda. “Hi,” Leonie said, blocking his path.</p><p>“Oh, hello Lieutenant,” Sylvain said. “Sorry, but I’m afraid I don’t have much time to talk. I’m in a little bit of a hurry.”</p><p>Leonie scowled, hoping the daggers shooting from her eyes would impale him, but no such luck today. “Hey. Hey! Get back here!”</p><p>“Whoa, no need to yell,” Sylvain said, blinking and holding his hands up as he turned around. “Did you need something?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve seen you around. You chat up <em>all</em> the girls like you just did with that Bohemian girl, don’t you?”</p><p>Sylvain smiled as he shook his head. “What a terrible thing to say! I see a girl, and I figure it would be rude to just pass her by without at least a wink or a nice word. I like to brighten up her day! But you knew that, so I’ll be going now.”</p><p>“Now hold on!” Leonie protested, grabbing his arm. “How come it’s not rude for you to just pass <em>me</em> by?!”</p><p>“Me?” Sylvain asked, blinking rapidly. His smile dropped from his face, and an ever-increasing look of confusion settled in. “Pass <em>who</em> now?”</p><p> </p><p>Part of her thought he was deliberately being obtuse. It wouldn’t surprise her at this rate. “When we first met, you didn’t treat me any differently than you do any other girl. But now it’s like I’m not even that! So, I want to know why on earth you’re acting like I’m not even anything close to all the girls you dote on all the time around here?”</p><p>“Uh…” he muttered, looking her up and down. “I… I see now. You’re… a girl.”</p><p>“I’m glad we’ve established that,” Leonie said, glaring at him.</p><p>“Sorry,” he drew out, brows furrowed. “I know it’s true in theory, but it looks like my brain just didn’t want to accept it. You are a beautiful girl in your own right,” he said slowly, words as jilted and confused as his regular conquests. “Yes, that is a statement with which I agree.” He nodded, gaining confidence and returned to a natural speaking rhythm, roguish smile returning with ease. “I am ever so terribly sorry for being so rude, my lady – I mean, Lieutenant. How can I ever make this up to you?”</p><p>Leonie’s head jerked back, and she cocked an eyebrow at him. “Uh, hold on, don’t get the wrong idea.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m serious! I feel dreadful about how I acted!” he said, an incredulous look crossing his face as he held a hand to his forehead. “I’ve never done anything like this before, and it shocks me that I am capable of such low behavior. Even if you are a somewhat crude – I mean, <em>spirited – </em>girl, that doesn’t excuse my-”</p><p>“<em>What</em> did you just call me?”</p><p>“R-right, sorry, I… cannot <em>believe</em> I was so thoughtless.” He sighed heavily, before turning away from her with the same sad puppy-dog eyes she’d seen him use on God-knows how many girls before. “I’ll just… take my leave for now, Lieutenant. My deepest apologies for offending you.” He scurried off in a rush with his head low.</p><p>“Acting pitiful won’t get you anywhere!” Leonie called to him. “I won’t just forget this!” <em>And I didn’t even tell him off for calling me Lieutenant all the time,</em> she thought. Dammit. He could be <em>relaxed</em> around her, they didn’t need all this formality. Her rank didn’t matter here at Garreg Mach anyway. Well, at least he seemed to have gotten the main message. If nothing else, she had that going for her.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p><em>Garreg Mach Monastery, Bohemia</em>
</p><p><em>December 18<sup>th</sup>, 1907</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Leonie was not a dancer. She received invitations for a few dances at the beginning of the night, but by the time the clock struck seven no further gentlemen found it in their spirit to dance with her. Not many wanted to dance with the American who had two left feet, it seemed. She also was very pointedly <em>not</em> a singer, a curse when performing in the choir tonight was required. Few wanted to be stood next to her, as she sung so horribly off-key even the priests quietly suggested she allow others to sing the glories of God in her stead.</p><p> </p><p>Leonie had once gone to one of Professor Eisner’s seminars on mountain warfare where she likened combat to seeing an opera. Each unit that participated in a war, Professor Eisner claimed, was like a dancer in a play where they had to move precisely and in tune with one another. If all were in harmony the plan would unfold perfectly. If they did not then everything would be thrown into chaos. At first Leonie figured that made enough sense. She saw how horrifically wrong that comparison was now. Combat was <em>easy</em>, find the objective and take it, this was <em>hard as hell.</em></p><p> </p><p>For as much as she liked hanging around the Golden Deer and as beautiful as the entrance hall had been done up for the occasion, Leonie increasingly felt out of place. Her dancing was awkward and stilted, a shortcoming not even Colonel Jeralt could fix, and she couldn’t even compel gentlemen to conversation, no matter the topic. The women, noble and “common” alike, didn’t seek her companionship either. She watched silently from the sidelines as Edelgard, Dorothea, Hilda, Mercedes, Professor Eisner, and even Bernadetta were repeatedly asked to dance. She never cared much about being seen as the girl that loved to dance, but… still. It was nice to get attention sometimes.</p><p> </p><p>By eight thirty, Leonie decided she had enough. She silently made her way out unnoticed by the vast majority of the students and faculty. The night was cold, fresh snowfall blanketing Garreg Mach in a white covering that muted all sound except for the whispers of wind that carried across the monastery’s endless and numerous peaks. Not even her greatcoat could protect Leonie from the chill that hit her, not from the wind but from the bitter feeling of acute loneliness that had pervaded her life ever since Colonel Jeralt had left Grand Junction eight years ago.</p><p> </p><p>She needed a quiet place to sit and think, get this <em>absurdity</em> out of her head. Her room would be the ideal place, but… well, it would also be the first place a lot of people would look. Leonie looked up and spotted the Saints Tower, a secluded place where few could possibly be. It was said that couples met up there on Christmas Eve, to make a wish to God in hope that He would ensure eternal love. She wasn’t really sure if she believed in that, but it meant that no one had any business up there<em> now.</em></p><p> </p><p>The tower was a struggle to climb, mostly because of the narrow, uneven steps intended to disrupt the movement of enemy soldiers. Good ol’ Garreg Mach, always thinking of ways to defend itself. She could finally clear her head up here. Nothing to look at but the shadows of peaks and stars twinkling in the night. She saw why Professor Eisner was so enamored with mountain warfare now. Any amount of hellish combat was worth it to get a view like this. Maybe she should be the world’s first cavalry officer who knew how to fight in the mountains, take the best of Jeralt <em>and</em> his daughter – and outmatch them both.</p><p> </p><p>Leonie heard footsteps behind her. Instinct told her to turn around but Leonie only gave a half-hearted glance and nothing more. Hey, nobody had cared before, so why would anyone go looking for her now? Maybe it was a couple looking to make an early promise or something. It wasn’t her business and she had other things on her mind anyway.</p><p>“I thought I might find you up here,” a Russian-accented voice said. Leonie turned around to see Sylvain standing at the top of the stairs, a hand on the back of his head and a sly smile on his face.</p><p>“Sylvain?” she asked, tilting her head. “What are you doing here?”</p><p>“I should be asking <em>you</em> that. What brings a sweet young girl like you to a place like this?”</p><p> </p><p>Leonie stared, trying to figure out what was going on. “Uh… I just… I came up here to get some air. What’s up with you?”</p><p>“Nothing much,” he said, casually walking her way and leaning on the same railing that Leonie had taken hold of. “Nothing… much. You know, I was just thinking about how sunflowers don’t deserve to be stuffed in a greenhouse. They’d bloom much better out in the open, like you!”</p><p><em>Okay, yeah, he’s angling for something.</em> “Can you just… cut the weird metaphors and say what you <em>want</em> to say?” Leonie asked, rolling her eyes. “Oh, wait. I get it. I’m not ladylike enough to fit in with all the pretty flowers. So you saw my dancing tonight.”</p><p>“No!” Sylvain protested, his eyes growing wide. “Okay, that compliment backfired. Let me try again…”</p><p>“This is a joke, right? Please tell me this is a joke.” If this was something the other nobles had set up, by God Leonie would go down to the armory and load <em>real</em> bullets into those rifles.</p><p>“What have you got against sunflowers?” Sylvain countered. “I think they’re lovely, myself. If you only think I care about delicate flowers raised in a greenhouse, you’ve got me all wrong. Statuesque sunflowers, blooming proud and tall in the open air, have a beauty all their own.”</p><p> </p><p>Leonie cocked an eyebrow skeptically. “Is that right?”</p><p>“Yes, and the same goes for you,” Sylvain insisted, suddenly taking her gloved hand in his. “You have a beauty unlike any other. I look at you – and I see sunflowers.” He stared at her expectantly, as if he was waiting for approval from her. Maybe he <em>was.</em></p><p>“Can you… just go back to normal?” Leonie asked. The attention was nice, sure, but having it lavished upon her all for a sick prank was too far.</p><p>Sylvain’s shoulders dropped, and he frowned. “At this point, I feel like <em>anything</em> I say is just going to make you angry.”</p><p>“Why are <em>you</em> suddenly not capable of carrying on a normal conversation?”</p><p> </p><p>Sylvain looked away, letting her hand fall free. He took a deep breath, staring to the stars like he was hoping they would give him strength, before a broad smile crossed his face and he let the breath out. The look in his eyes when he looked at Leonie was… it was different. “My eyes have been opened to the charms of the beautiful flower blooming right beside me,” he said, quietly. Was he afraid somebody else would hear?<em> Would</em><em> that be so bad?</em> “It’s a whole new day for my heart.”</p><p>“You can stop messing with me at <em>any</em> time,” Leonie muttered, furrowing her brow. It was part of the joke, right? She was sure Claude was in the stairwell, listening to all of this and suppressing his laughter like a madman.</p><p>“I’m not, I’m absolutely serious! You really are as charming as <em>any</em> flower. I see it now!”</p><p>“Would you stop?!” Leonie said, pushing him away as her cheeks began to flush. If he wasn’t careful, she might think he was serious about all this. “This is getting weird!”</p><p> </p><p>Sylvain dipped his head, looking up at her through his eyelashes with raised eyebrows. “Lieutenant, please. This is much more serious to me than anything else I have ever said in my life. I don’t even speak to my<em> episkop</em> <span>this way. You have… completely enamored me, and I’ve desperately tried to rid myself of these feelings, but I can’t. So… my lady, would you care to dance with me? Just the two of us.”</span></p><p>“I…” Leonie stammered, feeling herself blush even more. She rubbed her neck as her eyes darted across the room, desperately searching for some hint of <em>anybody</em> else that could clue her in that this was just some elaborate prank. “Fine, we’ll dance but on one condition. Stop calling me Lieutenant. I have a name and it’s Leonie.”</p><p>Taking her hand in his, Sylvain smiled with the utmost sincerity. “Very well then… Leonie.”</p><p>Very slowly, and with all the poise and grace she expected from a noble, Sylvain guided her into the beginning position. They didn’t dance for long – or at least, it didn’t <em>feel</em> like long, staring at his deep brown eyes. Everything about him exuded confidence, from how he held his toned arms hidden underneath the thick Russian wool to the way he gently corrected her on her footwork. Even the bayonet to her throat seemed far less like a tactical insult and more like another step in his dance of frivolous courtship. Eventually, she found herself moving closer and closer until their breaths became one, but she dared not kiss. Leonie didn’t feel that way. It wasn’t right.</p><p> </p><p>“Too fast?” Sylvain breathed, his voice so low only she could hear it.</p><p>“I can’t,” she said, pulling away and out of his hold. “Look, all of… what you said… I…”
</p><p>He nodded, splaying out his hands and taking a step back. “Okay. I can see you’re a bit overwhelmed. Maybe I should just escort you back to your room?”
</p><p>“Yeah! Sure! That… that sounds good.” Leonie allowed Sylvain to take her hand and lead her down the stairs. There was no mistaking any of this as a joke now. She hadn’t expected it but that short dance made her realize that there <em>were</em> feelings there, as much as she’d like to deny it. She almost wanted to beg for another dance halfway down the tower.</p><p>Sylvain acted like a perfect gentleman as he escorted her, taking particular care not to be too close or too far away. Light topics dominated their conversation with short, clipped answers the only thing Leonie found herself providing. He supplied every single joke and topic shift with an ease she could only wish for until they arrived at her door.
</p><p>“Uh… this is me,” Leonie said quietly. “Thank you for tonight, Sylvain.”</p><p>He smiled as he bowed deeply with a grandiose gesture. “No, thank <em>you,</em> Leonie. I’m glad I got the chance to share a dance with you.”
</p><p>Leonie stood by her door with a hand on her arm. Would Sylvain make another move and if so would she necessarily be opposed to it? “Is… that it then?”</p><p>“Well, we danced. I escorted you back here,” Sylvain said as if he was marking off a list. “Yes, I believe that should be it. I bid you a good night, my lady.”</p><p>What would have happened if she had leaned over and kissed him? If she had been just a little bit bolder? Leonie shook her head as she watched Sylvain walk off into the night. There was no time for frivolous things like this. She had one job at Garreg Mach and one job only; learn how to be an officer. Anything else just distracted her from training. It wasn’t like they could stay together after they graduated Garreg Mach anyway. Better to just bury every hint of emotion rather than get involved and get hurt down the line.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The Bleakness</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Saying goodbye is the hardest.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Garreg Mach Monastery, Bohemia</em>
</p><p>
  <em>June 8<sup>th</sup>, 1908</em>
</p><p> </p><p>A warm June day was the perfect time to go out and get some training done. Today, Leonie had lined up bayonet practice and shooting lessons with Shamir and there was a seminar that’d explore the finer points of battlefield medicine and first-aid treatments with Professor Casagranda. So far, her day was looking filled up, and that didn’t even get into doing weight training with Raphael. It was almost time to start her routine and so she headed right to his room hoping he’d be ready to go.</p><p> </p><p>She was confronted with the sight of a forlorn Raphael standing in the middle of his stripped-bare room. The only things left in there were his bed and desk. He must have stuffed everything he owned into the bag draped across his back.</p><p>“What the…” Leonie muttered.</p><p>“Oh, hey Leonie,” Raphael said, a look of surprise on his face when he turned around. “Uh… sorry, but… I’m gonna miss training today.”</p><p>Leonie stepped into the room, still trying to rationalize what the hell she was seeing. “What’s going on? Where’s all your stuff, Raphael?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well… truth is, Leonie…” Raphael said, sighing heavily. He had a weary expression on his face, like he was just <em>tired.</em> “I enlisted in the Army. I report to training in Dresden tomorrow.”</p><p>“What? Why?” Leonie asked, wide-eyed. “We’re already a year into our studies!”</p><p>Raphael dragged his feet across the floor, kicking away some dust. “Yeah, but I’m really not smart enough to be an officer… or rich enough. I can’t afford to go into debt to stay here when there’s no guarantee I’d get a commission at the end of it.”</p><p>She pinched the bridge of her nose in the vain hope this was a cruel prank. “But what about the stuff you sold?”</p><p>“It wasn’t enough. I’d have to ask my grandpa to help, but that money really ought to be saved to take care of my sister.”</p><p>Somebody approached from behind. Leonie instantly recognized the voice of Professor Eisner. “Ready, Raphael?” she asked. Raphael nodded, readjusting his grip on his bag of things as he moved past Leonie.</p><p>“Hey, guys,” Raphael stuttered. “Can you let the rest of the Deer know I’m sorry? That I couldn’t stay, I mean.”</p><p> </p><p>Professor Eisner nodded, a weak smile crossing her face. “Of course. Take care, Raphael.” Leonie’s face scrunched up. She knew about this? Had she told Raphael to leave the Academy to go enlist? Or had he sought her approval before leaving?</p><p>“You <em>knew</em> about this?” Leonie asked after Raphael departed.</p><p>“He came to me asking for advice,” Professor Eisner admitted. How on Earth was this Colonel Jeralt’s kid? She didn’t act <em>anything</em> like him.</p><p>“So you told him to just <em>leave?</em> What the hell kind of advice is that?”</p><p>“It’s more complicated than that,” Professor Eisner said. “I offered to help pay for his time here, see if anyone else in the Golden Deer would want to help, but he didn’t want me to do that. He told me he would rather stand on his own than owe anyone else, even if it meant leaving his friends.”</p><p> </p><p>Leonie clenched her fists, feeling the heat of anger rising up in her. “How can you act like this? You’re a disgrace to Colonel Jeralt!”</p><p>“What?” Professor Eisner asked, narrowing her eyes.</p><p>“Colonel Jeralt told me that true officers look after their men above all else, even to their own detriment. You’re just abandoning Raphael! He doesn’t deserve that!”</p><p>Professor Eisner simply stared back, her mouth trying to generate different words. “Where… exactly is this coming from, Leonie?”</p><p>“It’s coming from the fact you’re just letting Raphael <em>leave</em> and risk his entire life because he’s too bullheaded to let other people help him! It’s because you won’t do anything to help him, just because he said not to! Jeralt would <em>never</em> do that, he would help the guy out anyway, because that’s what officers <em>do!”</em> Leonie shouted, finally managing to unclench her fist. Time to walk away – if she got any more involved in this, she’d start swinging. If <em>that</em> happened, Leonie could kiss everything she’s worked so hard for goodbye. She couldn’t stop herself from throwing a different kind of punch. “You might be his kid, but I’m still his best apprentice, understand?!”</p><p> </p><p>Leonie left Professor Eisner standing in front of Raphael’s empty room. She had to work out this anger somehow. Maybe go a bit longer during bayonet practice today, focus more intensely on her shooting lessons with Shamir. <em>Anything</em> to distract herself from what she had just done. If she was lucky, Professor Eisner wouldn’t be at the seminar today, and she could wait until her anger cooled before meeting her again.</p><p> </p><p>Unfortunately, bayonet practice did little to quell her mood. Leonie found herself increasingly distracted with replaying the one-sided shouting match with her professor in her head. A brief Sylvain sighting made the memories of that December night come back to her in a flash. She’d tried to bury the very idea of dating Sylvain into a deep hole, but seeing him with other girls made her jealous. He had moved on maybe just a little too quickly for her liking, come to think of it. So what did that make her? Damn all of this making her so absent-minded. Shamir noticed it enough that she cut their lesson short, telling Leonie to get her head together before coming back. Any sort of distraction on the battlefield, Shamir told her, leads to dead soldiers and wasted ammo.</p><p> </p><p>Silently, Leonie wondered if these distractions would ever leave her mind.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>Hradec Králové, Bohemia</em>
</p><p>
  <em>June 9<sup>th</sup>, 1908</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Spending Sunday morning with Professor Eisner and a random assortment of students from different classes in the old fortress town was not exactly Leonie’s idea of a good time. She had scarcely even figured out how to apologize to Professor Eisner for blowing up on her yesterday – as much as she believed it was justified. The shock of losing Raphael had affected a <em>lot</em> of her fellow Golden Deer, especially Ignatz who was closest to him. Professor Eisner could have done a<em> million</em> things to convince Raphael to stay but instead just shrugged and gave up. <em>Couldn’t</em> and <em>shouldn’t</em> were both popular words in Leonie’s mind. Couldn’t focus on what can’t be changed. Shouldn’t focus on undoing what’s been done.</p><p> </p><p>Neither of those helped when there was work to be done. Jeralt had told them they’d be going on a field trip of sorts, to see what the town had to offer and bring back much-needed supplies for the monastery, and Leonie would never pass up a chance to work in the field alongside Jeralt. Even if that work was basically just a milk run.</p><p> </p><p>Professor Eisner hadn’t said much during the trip here, and she remained characteristically quiet as they wandered the streets of Hradec Králové. If she was thinking about how Leonie tore her down yesterday, she didn’t show it. Maybe that was a good thing. Leonie recalled Jeralt usually being somewhat reserved back in Grand Junction and rarely responding to outbursts from his soldiers. Perhaps she’d inherited that calm attitude from him?</p><p> </p><p>Leonie broke from her thoughts about the professor to take a look around. A jewelry store with all sorts of shining necklaces and rings displayed in its window came up on their left. Sylvain also was here, by either chance or deliberate intention, stealing sidelong glances at Leonie and winking her way as they passed by the display window. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes every time he said something in hushed Russian to Ingrid and <em>both</em> of them turned their eyes upon her. So far, they’d manage to assemble a nice collection of food, special request items from the nobles, and other supplies the monastery needed to keep going, and it wasn’t even two o’clock yet. It’s a good thing they were getting it done so quickly; the dark clouds hanging over the town warned of imminent rain. Strange, the weather report this morning didn’t make any mention of rain. It only called for clear skies for the week. Hopefully any inclement weather would arrive <em>after</em> they finished their business in the market and not during. Jeralt and Professor Eisner dispatched some of the other students to retrieve odds and ends from other shops in the central market while Leonie, Sylvain, Ingrid and a handful of unfamiliar Black Eagles students stayed behind.</p><p> </p><p>This might be the only chance Leonie had to actually apologize to her professor before classes started tomorrow. Other than Sylvain, who claimed he wanted to learn it, not many of these other students spoke English. It was as good an opportunity as ever. Leonie ran a hand through her hair, waiting until Jeralt started negotiating with a merchant before turning to her professor. “Uh, Professor, excuse me…”</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“Look, I’m sorry I snapped at you yesterday,” Leonie said, keeping her voice low. “I didn’t mean to lose my temper and be that rude to you. I should have known better.”</p><p>Professor Eisner merely stared straight ahead, blinking only once. “It’s alright. I wasn’t offended. In a way, you’re right. I should have done more.”</p><p>“Really? I’m… well, I’m happy to hear you say that. And that you don’t hate me, of course,” Leonie replied, immensely relieved. Well, at least Professor Eisner inherited some of Jeralt’s best traits after all. “You’re a lot like Colonel Jeralt, in that way. You just… accept other people. You don’t let petty details get you down.”</p><p> </p><p>Professor Eisner turned to her, a look of curiosity on her face as she opened her mouth to speak. As she did though, somebody shouted in German. Leonie turned to the noise, trying to figure out what was going on. Who the heck was shouting? They sounded close.</p><p>“<em>Gun!</em>” Sylvain shouted. One of the students from the Black Eagles, Monica, aimed a pistol at Jeralt’s back, firing two shots in rapid succession. What was she doing? Was this supposed to be some sort of weird training exercise with blanks or something? Jeralt groaned as he slouched forward into the shopkeeper’s stand, crimson blood spilling out of him. These rounds<em> definitely</em> were not blanks.Monica bolted as Ingrid and another Black Eagles student sprinted after her in hot pursuit.</p><p><em>“Dad!!”</em> Professor Eisner screamed, rushing over to her father as her cloak fluttered in the wind. Leonie didn’t understand their conversation – they spoke in hushed German as the professor’s tears matched the incoming rain.</p><p>Something had to be done, right? How could Monica do this to her, to <em>Professor Eisner?</em> Her heart sank to the bottom of her stomach as she stared at the gruesome scene before her. The despair she felt was matched only by the righteous anger that now fueled her as she gritted her teeth. “Deer!” she yelled to the other students. “Let’s go find Monica!”</p><p>“We’ll help you!” Sylvain yelled, his face twisted in anger as he gave a similar order to the Blue Lions.</p><p> </p><p>The rain poured down as they fanned out, each element of the class yelling to each other in a bizarre mess of French, German, and Russian in their attempt to find Monica. After an hour of searching, they had to admit they could not find her. The local police took over in the search for Monica, bluntly telling the students to go back to the Monastery. Dejected, they returned to the horrific scene of the crime. It didn’t look like anything had even changed. Professor Eisner still knelt before her father whose blood filled the cracks in the cobblestone. Other students stood by; some sobbed, others comforted them, while a few just had a distant stare. She spotted Sylvain sitting on the curb with Ingrid next to him, his head in his hands. Leonie had to be sure that her search wasn’t in vain. Maybe the shots weren’t fatal. Maybe he was still breathing, just in serious pain.</p><p> </p><p>As she stepped closer to Jeralt and Professor Eisner the grim truth became apparent. Colonel Jeralt had died. There was no amount of wishful thinking that could fix this, no magical way to turn back the clock, nothing that could <em>ever</em> be done to save him. Leonie fell to her knees next to Jeralt and Professor Eisner. Today had started warm yet the rain that fell upon her and Professor Eisner chilled her to the bone as she shuddered. Despite his face being damp and shiny, he seemed… peaceful. A smile was one his face, like he had accepted the finality of his fate. As she looked to her professor, Leonie realized her face was wet with tears as well as rain.</p><p>“<em>Er…</em><em> er ist…,</em>” Professor Eisner mumbled.</p><p>Leonie swallowed the lump in her throat as best she could, wrapping her arms around the professor. The rain turned into a downpour the second she did as Professor Eisner sobbed heavily. Leonie mirrored her professor, weeping in the rain. They may not have been blood sisters, but their love for Colonel Jeralt was something that transcended their professional relationship. Leonie shared in Professor Eisner’s pain purely because she understood how grievous this loss truly was.</p><p> </p><p>The ride back to Garreg Mach with Jeralt’s body took up the rest of their day. Unloading the supplies they had brought back with them was almost an afterthought, yet it was a task she undertook with far less enthusiasm than she normally would have. Word spread that Professor Eisner locked herself in her room for the rest of the day. It felt like she could hear her sobbing from anywhere across the monastery. The rain never stopped even as night fell and a new day rose.</p><p> </p><p>News of Jeralt’s death passed quickly through the monastery. The Church declared a day of mourning, and before long the vast number of soldiers in the monastery who had once served under Colonel Jeralt came out in force for a memorial service held in the chapel, grieving his loss. The student body felt Jeralt’s loss as well, a dour mood infecting the campus after the memorial service ended. Leonie shut herself in after she had paid her respects, unwilling to talk to anyone. How could she face the world knowing her lifelong hero wouldn’t be there to see her succeed? Leonie stared at the ceiling, hoping that she could wake up from this nightmare and everything would be back to normal. Maybe then she wouldn’t be haunted by the image of seeing Jeralt killed in front of her. If only she had something to help her. Like… Sylvain… if she dared to inch towards those thoughts. If only she had Sylvain here to comfort her.</p><p> </p><p>At night, the ongoing storm kept her awake. At least, that was the lie she told herself. In truth, the bright flashes of lightning were a convenient excuse, an easy answer to the very real and difficult question of Sylvain on her mind. The dance they shared mixed with the look of shock on his face as Colonel Jeralt was gunned down, alongside the righteous fury on his face as he ordered his fellow students around on their fruitless search for Monica. For all her will, Leonie could not force Sylvain out. He had invaded her thoughts and staked his claim on her heart.</p><p> </p><p>What a cruel and terrible person she must be, to be thinking of something as silly as love when her idol and mentor had been gunned down before her eyes. If this was her mind’s twisted idea of a coping mechanism, she didn’t want any part of it. Maybe if she got up and walked around some it would clear her mind and let her sleep. She rose from her bed sluggish and aching as if a great burden had just been placed upon her as she walked the halls. In the daytime, the massive stained glass window in the student housing made Leonie feel somewhat at ease, comfortable in the knowledge that someone was watching over her. At night, though, the scenes of victory and religion became twisted, demented horrors. There was nothing holy in the way the lightning illuminated them, just the oppressive doom of an old institution.</p><p> </p><p>The rain stopped her from wandering too far outside the student quarters so Leonie sat on the porch set before the courtyard, one of many in Garreg Mach. Just off to her right, she saw the vague outline of the greenhouse, and the front the common courtyard was full of finely-trimmed bushes, perfectly maintained flower gardens, and grass that almost never grew more than an inch and a half high thanks to Garreg Mach’s groundskeeping staff and student volunteers. All of this mass effort and attention to detail was currently being soaked by the storm. She leaned back as her head rested against the cold stone walls of the barracks. The cold and rain matched her own gloomy mood. Losing Jeralt felt like losing a part of herself. If <em>she</em> felt this way, then how on earth did the Professor feel?</p><p> </p><p>The door to the dormitories opened, creaking heavily. Must not have been oiled in a long time. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sylvain sit down next to her, leaning against the same cold, indifferent stone. He had the same look as many of the cadets at the Academy, intense grief and sadness at losing a man who they had all come to care about. He rested his arm on his knee, looking out at the same courtyard until a forlorn sigh escaped his lips. “You couldn’t sleep either, huh?”</p><p>“No,” Leonie admitted. “I can’t stop thinking about…”</p><p>“Me too,” Sylvain said, nodding. He didn’t look at her, but kept his gaze fixed forward. “I keep thinking about… how maybe if I had been a little quicker…”</p><p> </p><p>“At least you saw Monica with the gun, though,” Leonie countered. “That’s better than me. I wasn’t even looking when it happened.”</p><p>“But I didn’t act. I couldn’t warn Colonel Jeralt fast enough.” Sylvain frowned he leaned his head back. “It’s because of me that Monica escaped. That Colonel Jeralt died.”</p><p>Leonie shook her head. “You can’t blame yourself. Professor Eisner is probably doing that herself. Even just you <em>saying</em> something is better than a lot of us.”</p><p>“I could have done <em>more.</em>”</p><p> </p><p>A silence fell between them, and for a while, Leonie wasn’t sure what to say. She couldn’t find anything uplifting enough to force a change in the topic. More than that, though, Leonie was intensely aware of his warmth right next to her. The outside was frigid, colder than a June evening ought to be, but with the rain and the ancient construction of Garreg Mach… it made anyone chilly. But with Sylvain right next to her, both physically and emotionally, she felt <em>warm.</em> Part of Leonie wondered if he felt this too, but actually asking was harder than any exam.</p><p>“You know, I’m the heir to House Gautier,” Sylvain said, succeeding in changing the topic where she couldn’t. “I… really shouldn’t be.”</p><p>“Why not?” Leonie asked.</p><p>A bitter smile crossed Sylvain’s face. “My brother, Miklan… he led a rebellion in Tula. He gathered peasants from the metropolis and the surrounding villages, promised them that if they marched to Saint Petersburg, he would overthrow the Emperor and give them wealth beyond imagination.”</p><p>Leonie tilted her head as she turned to look at him. She didn’t know he had a brother. “Why would he do that?”</p><p> </p><p>“Miklan was a socialist. He believed in Marx’s teachings, and wanted to implement them across Russia without care as to whose toes he stepped on along the way. So… my father disowned him. Before joining the rebellion, he wouldn’t have gotten anything from my father. No land, no money, no power.” Sylvain shook his head. “Remember last August? When I went home for a week alongside Tsarevich Dimitri Alexandre and Dedue Innokentivich? That was to take command of a company of troops, to… engage and defeat the rebellion my brother had raised.”</p><p>“So…”</p><p>“I killed my brother. It wasn’t my bullet that found his body or my blade that slayed him, but it was my actions that got him killed regardless. Because of me, he’s dead.” Sylvain took a long, shaky breath, slowly letting it out through his nose. “Because I didn’t believe what he did, because I still believed in the orthodox, I was named heir over him. If it had been reversed? Well, I might have ended up like Miklan. And he might be here, talking to you about all this, instead of me.”</p><p> </p><p>“He’s <em>not</em> here, though,” Leonie pointed out.</p><p>Slowly, Sylvain’s hand wandered over to hers and he met Leonie’s eyes with a sincere look of regret and compassion on his face. “I just… there are so many words I can’t find myself saying.”</p><p>“Whenever you start making sense,” she said, arching an eyebrow, “I’ll start listening.”</p><p>“I’m immensely guilty over causing my brother to react so violently. If he had never felt ostracized… maybe he would still be alive. And if I had just been a little bit quicker to notice, done something tangible… maybe Colonel Jeralt would still be alive.”</p><p>Leonie pinched the bridge of her nose. Didn’t she <em>just</em> go over this with him? “Don’t blame yourself. You can’t. There was nothing any of us could have done.”</p><p>“I don’t know if I believe that,” Sylvain replied. He took his hand off hers, slowly standing up. Rubbing the back of his head, Sylvain looked out to the storm. “Anyway, I’m… I’m gonna go get some sleep. Or, at least, <em>try</em> to. You should too, Leonie.”</p><p> </p><p>She didn’t reply. How could she, when all she wanted to do was say something, but too afraid to bring the emotions to reality? How could she voice an emotion that didn’t make sense to her? Helpless, Leonie watched Sylvain disappear behind the door, leaving her alone with her thoughts and the rain. Maybe Sylvain was right. Maybe she should go get some sleep. If nothing else, maybe dropping into sleep could rid her of the insanity that plagued her mind. Or, if she was feeling particularly poetic and hopeful, maybe it would give her the courage to actually say the words she couldn’t speak.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The Battlefield</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>When the world marches to war, some join the frontlines while others find a more indirect path to participate in the war.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>Washington Arsenal, Washington, D.C.</em>
</p><p><em>August 8<sup>th</sup>, 1914</em>
</p><p> </p><p>War.</p><p> </p><p>In the back of her head, Leonie had always known it would be a possibility. After all, the Officer’s Academy at Garreg Mach had never failed to remind them that every lesson, every test, every exercise, was another step towards their ultimate goal. Every part of the academy was purpose-built to teach them two things: how to fight a war, and how to lead soldiers into battle. Anything else was a fun side project, a distraction from the grim and ugly business they were heading into.</p><p> </p><p>Well, the business Leonie’s <em>classmates</em> had gone into. For the United States, war was a far-off, distant thing. The conflict over in Europe was precisely that – a European affair for Europeans to sort out. Fulfilling the promise she had made to Colonel Jeralt hadn’t proved easy but she never believed it would be <em>that</em> easy to begin with. She’d managed to push through red tape and bullshit to lead a company of her own cavalrymen, just like Jeralt once had. One day, she’d make full colonel, just like Jeralt.</p><p> </p><p>A knock came at her door. Leonie lowered the newspaper she had been reading to call in her desk sergeant. “Good morning, Captain,” he said, handing her a telegraph. “This just came in for you, new orders.”</p><p>Odd. They weren’t set to head for maneuvers in Vermont yet. Leonie took the telegraph and unfolded it, reading it once, then twice, and a third time to make sure she understood what it said. She could feel her face twisting in confusion.</p><p>“Well, ma’am?” the sergeant asked. “Where to?”</p><p>“I’m to head to Europe,” Leonie replied, surprised. “Uh… well, to Russia actually. They want a military attache embedded in the Russian army to watch how they fight a war.”</p><p>Leonie wasn’t sure what to make of these orders. Her? Serving in what was effectively a diplomatic position, hanging around some Russian officer? Her years at Garreg Mach told her a lot of Russian officers typically spoke at least <em>some</em> French, but her Russian was limited almost exclusively to shouting obscenities and insults. Surely, that wouldn’t be terribly helpful. But orders were orders, and she had to follow them. At least Leonie was leaving with the company in the capable hands of Lieutenant Jones. Her transport to Europe would be leaving within the week which gave her enough time to brief everyone and settle affairs here and there.</p><p> </p><p>And it gave her time to visit Colonel Jeralt one last time before shipping out.</p><p> </p><p>The walk to Arlington National Cemetery never took more than twenty minutes out of her day, and she made sure to take it as often as she could. At least once per week, Leonie visited Captain Jeralt in his grave. There was a memorial stone for him at Garreg Mach and she had visited that every other day – if not <em>every</em> day – with Professor Eisner, making sure it was maintained perfectly and that the flowers were still fresh. Leonie continued this with his actual grave in Arlington, ensuring that Captain Jeralt’s flowers, a bouquet of forget-me-nots, begonias, and roses, always stood tall and proud.</p><p> </p><p>Today, though, she didn’t have flowers on her mind. Another element of her visits to Colonel Jeralt’s grave was to have conversations with him. She never knew if he heard her but it always made her feel better. Knowing he was <em>there,</em> that there may have been even a small chance she could reach out from beyond and speak to him, comforted her.</p><p> </p><p>The air was warm, with just enough sun to brighten every color on the flowers in front of Jeralt’s grave, and as she expected for an August afternoon in D.C., there were few others around.</p><p>“Good afternoon, sir,” Leonie said as she stood in front of him. This part was always the hardest, if only because it was another reminder of what she had lost. A lump formed in her throat, making it difficult to get words out. “I… might not be here for a while. I have new orders. Going to Russia, observe the war over there.”</p><p>God, she could almost hear him now, see his smile. <em>“That’s great, Leonie,”</em> he’d no doubt say. <em>“Don’t get distracted out there. Battlefield’s not like the Academy.”</em></p><p>“I know, I know. I’m leaving the company in good hands. I wish you could see us now, the Regiment’s been making great strides since you left. We’ve got our machine gun company almost all set up, as soon as Congress gets us those guns. But I guess you know all about how that sort of thing goes.”</p><p>He had always regaled her with stories and warnings of government incompetence. Too often, the Army promised him one thing, then either never delivered it or gave them something entirely different. Leonie had experienced her fair share of that, too. They were supposed to be getting new rifles, but nobody in the brass could agree on what they actually needed. Until then, Leonie and her company were equipped with a hellish mix of new and old weapons. It was enough to drive the quartermasters to near insanity.</p><p> </p><p>Leonie sighed, looking down at the ground. “Well, I can’t stay for too long today. I need to pack and get everything in order. I’ll be sure to come visit you the minute I get Stateside again. Thank you, for everything you’ve done and all you taught me. I know I say it a lot, but…” Wetting her lips provided only a temporary relief. She always got so damn <em>emotional</em> here. Was it the sheer number of heroes buried here? Maybe. But she had a feeling it’d be the same if Jeralt’s grave was the only one for miles around. “Feels like I find new ways to appreciate you every day. Thank you, sir.”</p><p>She stepped back once and stood at attention. With a lump in her throat so big she practically choked on it, and tears already rolling down her cheeks, Leonie saluted Colonel Jeralt. She knew she didn’t have to. She knew it didn’t make any sense. But damn it, he <em>deserved</em> that respect from her. Even in death, Colonel Jeralt deserved to know she valued everything he had ever done for her. A salute expressed what Leonie’s words never could.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p><em>Outskirts of Lemberg, Russian-occupied East Galicia</em>
</p><p><em>September 12<sup>th</sup>, 1914</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Lemberg’s countryside was covered in wooden barricades and temporary structures, while the trenches looked much older than the two months that marked the start of the war. Heavy rain soaked the ground as Leonie rode with her Russian escorts to the camp. Practically every foxhole had at least one mud-covered Russian soldier, bearing shoulderboards with a blue stone color dyed in. A soldier with a peaked cap that featured a black visor approached her, dismissing the sergeants that had brought her from the railway station in Rivne.</p><p>“Are you the American?” he asked, in heavily accented French.</p><p>“I am,” Leonie replied, dismounting her borrowed horse. “Captain Leonie Pinelli, United States Army. Where’s your commanding officer?”</p><p>The soldier jerked his head to the side, heading down the trench with Leonie not far behind. He introduced himself as Captain Subbotin, urging Leonie not to fall behind. The front was quiet today, aside from the perpetual rain that dropped down on them. In spite of the downpour the soldiers sang songs as one played a strange triangle-shaped guitar. Others silently chowed on bread and sausages. It felt less like these soldiers were at war, and more like they were just on a field exercise.</p><p> </p><p>The trench twisted and turned, winding in ways that didn’t quite make sense to Leonie. Signs pointed the way and hung over dugouts, but Leonie’s inability to read Russian made them as meaningful as abstract art. Maybe whoever the officer in charge was had a map she could use. Her escort eventually led her into a dugout. Small pictures – mostly religious icons, Leonie realized – dotted a shelf along the head of what must have been a command room, with a larger picture of Jesus Christ himself situated in the center. A banner had something written in Russian on it, hung over a table that featured a map and several Russian Army officers standing around it, leaning down.</p><p> </p><p>Captain Subbotin announced their presence, causing them to break from their ruminations on the map and glance up at her. Most of them were much older with grand mustaches and beards that didn’t hide their age. Their uniforms had an odd mix of alternating shades of khaki, dark green, and white. Was there any sort of standard around here, or were they all visiting from different units?</p><p> </p><p>The last one, the one all of them looked up to if not just in height but also in respect, slowly turned around as Captain Subbotin said Leonie’s name. She could recognize those brown eyes and that unkempt red hair anywhere. Surely this was some sort of divine retribution. A cruel joke played on her by fate. Leonie didn’t much believe in reincarnation, but she sure as hell did now and began to wonder who she had pissed off in a past life. Somehow, out of nearly two hundred divisions and five million people, Leonie had managed to land an assignment with the <em>one</em> unit that had Sylvain Jose Gautier commanding the troops. Part of her thought that obscuring the commanding officer’s name from her had been intentional subterfuge, but decided that the Army <em>probably</em> wasn’t smart enough for that.</p><p> </p><p>Sylvain gave her his signature wink and flashed that same stupid smile that she had spent too many nights at local bars doing her level best to forget. All at once, every absurd memory, every restless night, and every hour spent reasoning with the bottom of a shot glass came flooding back to her. Unsolicited memories of that one fateful dance they shared, their mutual grief at the death of Colonel Jeralt, and the cursed emotion she had been too afraid to confess to five years ago taunted her.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, Captain Leonie Pinelli,” Sylvain said in French, dismissing his staff with a quick order. He seemed relaxed, far too relaxed for her liking. “I see that three years has not dulled your shine. Come in, have a seat! You must be tired after the ride!”</p><p>“I’m fine,” Leonie replied, just a bit too quickly. Honestly, she had given up hope of ever seeing Sylvain again after Garreg Mach. It had taken a lot of effort and alcohol just to bury those feelings, but now that he was in front of her again… yeah, he was definitely older, but he still had that same confidence and charm that characterized every interaction she ever had with him at the Academy. Sylvain looked at her oddly, before opening a bottle of vodka and pouring her a shot. Well, she wouldn’t turn down good vodka, especially this close to Russia… “How come nobody told me you’d be the officer in charge here?”</p><p>“Well, I didn’t know myself until a few weeks ago,” Sylvain admitted, shrugging his shoulders as he poured himself a shot. “I was in Moscow when the war broke out, but I thought they would have had me back at the Kremlin planning the war, not <em>fighting</em> it.”</p><p>Leonie nodded. Well, that sounded about right. Guess the Russian Army was just as indecisive as the US Army. “I’m sure you know that I’m here as an observer and military attache. So, what’s the plan going forward?”</p><p> </p><p>Sylvain shook his head as a playful smile crossed his face. He seemed more like he treated the whole venture as a game more than anything else. “So serious! Come on, I haven’t seen you for three years! You’re not curious at all as to what I’ve been doing this whole time?”</p><p>“If it’s anything like when you were at Garreg Mach,” Leonie remarked right after downing the vodka, “then it’s just been flirting with girls and slacking off.”</p><p>Sylvain put a hand to his heart, a shocked and pained expression crossing his face. “Your words wound me, ma’am. I haven’t been up to much. Simply maintaining my position as an officer.” After taking his shot, a sly look came across his face and he winked again. “And, of course, learning English has taken up a lot of my time.”</p><p>The fact he had so smoothly switched over to English – yet another language under his command – surprised Leonie. She couldn’t even maintain a neutral expression as surprise bled through her usual no-bullshit demeanor. His accent was there, of course, but she could definitely understand him better than some of her old drill sergeants. “I… you learned English?”</p><p>“Of course. Told you I would one day.”</p><p> </p><p>Right. The promise she had forgotten about. It hanged at the end of their parting words to one another on graduation day. Leonie made a half-hearted promise to visit Russia one day and Sylvain promised to learn English. Well, by fate they had both managed to fulfill those promises despite Leonie barely putting forth the effort on her end. Funny how things worked out like that.</p><p>“Okay, for real though, I assume you’re planning an offensive? Wasn’t that what you and your staff were talking about when I came in?”</p><p>Sylvain relented despite the mulish set of his face. “Yes, we were. Our section of the front puts us against some of the best troops of the Austro-Hungarian Army, and so far we’ve been making good ground.”</p><p>“I sense a ‘but’ coming on,” Leonie said, arching an eyebrow.</p><p> </p><p>He gestured to the map, showing her the situation as they knew it. Lines drawn on the map represented current trenches, separated by what looked like mere inches but Leonie knew the actual distance was closer to kilometers. Shaded areas represented either forests, hills, or other obstacles of note, and markings denoted the presence of the Russian units with vague designations for their Austrian counterparts. If this was the most accurate, up to date map available, then dislodging the Austrians from their positions in the mountains – dug in or not – would be difficult.</p><p> </p><p>“As you can see,” Sylvain explained, “the Austrians have retreated into the mountains across the Dniester River. This gives them an excellent position to watch over the river itself and also fire on us with impunity. It’s an excellent position, but critical as well. If we can break their defenses and travel through this pass,” he traced a narrow, winding line on the map and tapped twice on its end, a point solidly within the Austro-Hungarian border. “We have a clear shot to Vienna. We pull this off and we’re home before Christmas.”</p><p>“Fighting uphill into the mountains?” Leonie asked, drawing a hesitant breath. “That seems… dangerous.”</p><p>“The Austrians are on the run ever since we took Lemberg,” Sylvain shrugged. “Stavka wants me to keep pushing at them, destroy what’s left of their forces. Now, come on, enough talk of battle plans and war. I want to know what you’ve been up to all this time.”</p><p>Of course, <em>this</em> again. Leonie rolled her eyes as she shook her head. “I’d love to regale you with the tales of my military career since leaving the Academy,” she said sarcastically. “But I have to get settled in. Where are the barracks?”</p><p> </p><p>With another wink and a smile, Sylvain gave her directions. Just down the trench, and to the right. Impossible to miss. They had apparently requisitioned some lord’s manor to use as a barracks for the officers, with the enlisted consigned to the servant’s quarters and other smaller buildings. Leonie trudged through the mud and rain to the manor, one that she <em>knew</em> was familiar in some way. How, she wasn’t really sure, but there was something she recognized about this place.</p><p> </p><p>The Russians gestured her into an unused room, which looked like it used to be a study. There was a simple cot in the room, with a few shelves and haphazardly-built pieces of furniture to host her things. Jeralt’s challenge coin was a steady, comforting weight in her pocket, her little piece of home as she began to unpack, doing her best to make home out of this dreary corner of a seized estate. By the time she had organized her uniforms, incidental items, and the extra pieces of kit she had brought along, the only thing left to put away was the challenge coin itself. Leonie absentmindedly rolled it through her fingers as she glanced outside, seeing that the rain had further darkened the day into night, which meant it must have been close to getting to bed. No doubt tomorrow would be an early day.</p><p> </p><p>“Settling in well, I hope,” Sylvain said. He smiled at her as he leaned against the doorframe, the same look that Leonie realized she last saw when they danced together. “So… that coin. It’s precious to you, right?”</p><p>Leonie swallowed, staring at the challenge coin. This was way more than just a challenge coin to her. It represented her entire career, and her promise to Jeralt to be just like him, that she was still trying to uphold. “Colonel Jeralt gave this to me when I was a kid,” she said, running her finger over the low relief of the regimental insignia. “Before he left for the Spanish War, he stopped in my town and stayed a while. He taught me everything I know… at least, all the stuff I learned before I went to the Academy.”</p><p>“So <em>that’s</em> how you always passed room inspections,” Sylvain joked, laughing. “I knew you had an edge on us!”</p><p>“It was more than just passing room inspections. He inspired me to make myself better than I was. He put the kick in me to join the cavalry, do all I could to strengthen myself.”</p><p> </p><p>The floor creaked as Sylvain stepped closer to her and her traitorous heart picked up speed.<em> Not here, not now.</em> Leonie was<em> not</em> planning to deal with these stupid feelings on the front lines of a<em> war!</em> He reached up to touch her shoulder, gently grasping it and rubbing it as if to massage her. “I know it’s been a long time since Colonel Jeralt passed away but… I still think about that day.”</p><p>“I do too,” Leonie replied, desperately avoiding his gaze upon her. Jeralt’s coin provided a perfect escape, but it made her think about ghosts of a different sort. Now more than ever, the challenge coin felt heavy in her hand, like the weight of it was magnified a hundred times over. It made her think, made her wonder. Was Leonie even upholding the standards she had set upon herself? Was what she did here, or at Garreg Mach, or back home, written on stone or in sand? “I still visit his grave. Well, I did, before I left to come here.”</p><p>“You travel all the way to Bohemia to see his grave? How?” Sylvain asked, genuinely shocked.</p><p>“Not the one at Garreg Mach, the one in the United States,” Leonie corrected. “Either way, I need to sleep, so… if you don’t mind?”</p><p> </p><p>Sylvain nodded, taking his hand off her shoulder and bidding her a good night. He even closed the door behind him. Did he do that because he was a gentleman, or was there a different motive? Leonie shook her head in a vain attempt to stop thinking about him. The rain battered the windows of her room, streaks of water running down each pane while the pale oil streetlights surrounding the conquered estate burned in the dark. Occasionally, she heard murmurs of Russian from below, the sign of Sylvain’s staff working late into the night.Sleep proved impossible to get, mostly because much like he had taken hold of this land in Austria, Sylvain had once again taken hold of Leonie’s mind. Even after three years, three thousand miles, and an ocean apart, Leonie’s feelings for Sylvain had not diminished in any capacity.</p><p> </p><p>Just her luck to realize she was in love with a guy right when she got to the frontlines of a war. Of course she did. Just her stupid luck, right? All’s fair, except when it really, <em>really</em> wasn’t.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. The Besieged</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Leonie follows Sylvain's division as it heads to engage the Austro-Hungarian Army.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Somewhere south of Lemberg, Russian-occupied East Galicia</em>
</p><p>
  <em>September 16<sup>th</sup>, 1914</em>
</p><p> </p><p>On the dawn of the offensive, the mood in the Russian camp was calm. Leonie kept her notebook close at hand, watching the Russians marshal their logistics and setting up final orders to dispatch to the troops. Every action, every bit of French she heard, each subtle movement of markers on the map, she noted every single one in her book. Leonie’s study and Sylvain’s translations painted the full picture for her soon enough – the Russian 4<sup>th</sup> Army, of which Sylvain’s 187<sup>th</sup> Mounted Rifles Division was part of, aligned itself against what might have been a corps of Hungarian soldiers part of the Austro-Hungarian 8<sup>th</sup> Army Group. The Russian 4<sup>th</sup> Army maintained their offensive into Austrian East Galicia intent on opening a path to Vienna by brute force rather than outmaneuvering the Austro-Hungarian Army.</p><p> </p><p>Sylvain had high hopes for the offensive, aiming to utilize the Maxim guns to pin down the Hungarians at long range while his troops closed the distance under cover of artillery fire. The scout platoon trudged into camp covered in dirt and exhausted, but grinning as they reported the news: the troops were on the edge of the Dniester River, an order away from initiating the advance. Sylvain ordered the scouts to report back and deliver orders to the leading division: initiate the crossing and engage the enemy. This prompted moving up his command post with Leonie in tow.</p><p> </p><p>As she got on her borrowed Russian horse, Leonie could see the peaks of the mountains just ahead of them. They were covered by low clouds, of course, but the slopes of the Carpathians were impossible to miss. An early snow would favor the enemy, compounding difficulty of an assault up the mountain. She hoped her sketch was at least somewhat accurate. They had bivouacked in a forest a little over a quarter of a kilometer from the river’s edge which also served as their assembly point. The area around the forest itself was mostly clear, save for scattered trees that provided some cover. Sketching the mountain had proved a little difficult, but direct observation and translated scout reports filled in the major details of a point filled mostly with rocks and winding paths that led into a larger main pass that Sylvain aimed to seize.</p><p> </p><p>Leonie strode next to Sylvain, clearing her throat. “Generalmajor, you said the other day your orders are to fight the Austrians, but I noted that your men believe the enemy unit here to be Hungarians. So, which one is it?”</p><p>He turned to her, smiling like he always did, and nodded. “Both are correct. But, uh, please, don’t be so formal with me. The rest of my men, they don’t speak English, and very little French, so you’re free to call me Sylva if you want. Or, I guess, just Sylvain.”</p><p>“Sylva?” Leonie asked, furrowing her brow. “Childhood nickname?”</p><p> </p><p>Sylvain laughed, shaking his head. “Sort of. In Russia, we have our first names, our… well, I don’t know the English word, but our father’s names, and our last names. For example, Emperor Dimitri Alexandre. I refer to him like that not <em>just</em> because that’s his title, but because I should speak to him formally. With Ingrid, I usually just call her Inga and she calls me Sylva. It’s just our way of being close and friendly with each other, you know?”</p><p>“I guess that makes sense,” Leonie replied. “So, would I have a nickname like that too?”</p><p>He paused, lost in thought for a moment before his eyes lit up. “Your name’s already Leonie, so I can just call you Leo! That’d be fine, right?”</p><p>“I was asking for a nickname, not an astrological sign,” Leonie joked, turning her head away so as not to show too much of her smile. Distant thunder cracked across the landscape just as she looked back at Sylvain. “Besides, that sort of-”</p><p><em>“INCOMING!”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Panic immediately consumed the headquarters company. Shells burst around them as Sylvain and Leonie maneuvered to avoid the incoming barrage, Russian mixing with French as they tried to regain some manner of cohesion. They were close to the river now – the Hungarians must be trying to prevent them from crossing. The closer they edged to the riverbanks of the Dniester, the more clearly Leonie heard the sound of rifle fire mixing with the shells.</p><p> </p><p>At the water’s edge, Leonie saw the obvious signs of a unit pinned down; the company nearest the command group was split on opposite river banks. The two halves shouted at each other, trying to coordinate an active defense, but the ongoing rifle fire and artillery barrage drowned out their communications. Sylvain took charge of the situation, rattling off orders in Russian to anyone and everyone nearby.</p><p> </p><p>“What’s the plan?!” Leonie screamed above a shell impact. Each renewed salvo showered her with dirt, covering every part of her uniform and leaving brown specks in her horse’s mane.</p><p>“Keep moving!” Sylvain yelled back, laying himself as low as possible on his horse. Time to get the fuck out of here. No use standing around on a shore with nobody to back her up. Leonie charged across the river with Sylvain, miraculously dodging incoming bullets the entire way. On the other side of the shore, Sylvain urged his troops forward, braving the storm of Austro-Hungarian rifle fire alongside his soldiers. Behind them, bracketed artillery fire locked out any hope of escape. The only way out was through.</p><p> </p><p>Sylvain’s men dismounted from their horses, sprinting to cover and readying their rifles. The rifle fire got impossibly louder to Leonie’s ears as she kept low, making her way towards Sylvain’s cover behind a fallen tree.</p><p>“This isn’t exactly according to plan,” Leonie snapped, struggling to make herself heard over the cacophony of chaos.</p><p>“Nope! Not at all!” Sylvain yelled back, squinting up the foothills that marked the position they were supposed to have taken five minutes ago.</p><p>Leonie took the time to take in every detail and commit everything to memory. The Regiment would want to hear all about the performance of the Russian and Austro-Hungarian armies. The water jumped and danced as Hungarian bullets landed in between, deterring potential crossing efforts. Russian sergeants raved at their charges. Glimpses of field gray uniforms peeked out from behind the rocks on the slopes. Hot brass filled the air as it violently ejected from rifles.</p><p> </p><p>Beside her, Sylvain turned his head to the rear, shouting in Russian to somebody she couldn’t see. A minute later a fire team of Russians dragged up their Maxim gun, going through a hauntingly familiar procedure of loading and preparing the weapon’s tripod to fire. The machine gun opened up, sending three hundred rounds a minute up towards the Hungarians at the peaks of the slopes.</p><p> </p><p>The Maxim gun firing had a positive effect on the troops. A resounding war cry emanated from Sylvain’s unit as they rose up from their spots on the ground, blitzing forward into the Hungarians. Leonie couldn’t help but grin as she watched them charge forward. However, that smile quickly disappeared. This wasn’t right. It was too easy, the Hungarians were giving up too soon. What was happening? What was she <em>missing?</em></p><p>“Generalmajor, generalmajor!” Captain Subbotin shouted, struggling to set his cap straight again. “Look! To the north!”</p><p>Leonie and Sylvain raised their binoculars at almost the same time and turning their gaze to the north, Sylvain<em> must</em> see the same unusual uniforms as her. They definitely weren’t Russians. <em>Nothing</em> indicated that the enemy would have had reinforcements nearby, and the terrified expression crossing Sylvain’s face told Leonie all she needed to know, but she asked anyway. “Uh, any intelligence on those guys?”</p><p>“They aren’t retreating,” Sylvain muttered. Then, louder, “Ambush! They’re not retreating! They are leading us into a trap!” He tried to rally his men, waving his free hand wildly in a desperate attempt to call off the charge.</p><p> </p><p>She looked out to the field before her. The Russians were in a bad way with a brave attack matching up against impending enemy reinforcements. The charge petered out as Russians answered the call to rally. Through it all, what little cover remained on the opposite shore of the Dniester disintegrated underneath artillery fire. The trees, fallen and still standing alike, rapidly lost pieces of bark and large branches as enemy artillery tore them asunder. Russian mixed with screaming shells and incessant rifle fire as Leonie could do little but help where she could, sprinting out to recover a wounded officer. He screamed his head off the entire time and clutched at his stomach.</p><p> </p><p>“Fall back!” Sylvain shouted, to little effect.<em> Damn it,</em> nobody could hear him over all this noise. The officer she saved groaned as he put a whistle into her hand. It was up to Leonie to call the retreat. The whistle calls screeched on Leonie’s left just as the confused dual attack and defense turned into a disorganized rout. On the right, the incoming Austro-Hungarian reinforcements cut through a haphazardly organized defensive line, throwing Sylvain’s troops even further into chaos as the enemy marauded and slayed Russians. Leonie realized with dawning horror that the black-clad soldiers were on a path straight to her and Sylvain, and there were few options of escape.</p><p> </p><p>Sylvain shouted and she looked just in time to see a cascade of blood spurt from his arm. Not even the threat of Austrians bearing down on her position could keep her in the present, Sylvain’s screams punching her five years back in time. A marketplace instead of a valley, granite buildings instead of stone mountains, iron streetlights instead of narrow trees, but the screams – the screams were the same.</p><p> </p><p>Because Sylvain sounded just like Jeralt.</p><p> </p><p>Leonie couldn’t just be a spectator to this war anymore. The officer she had dragged over had a rifle, which she shouldered and took aim at the oncoming Austrians. She only fired four times before the rifle clicked, but it was enough to force the nearest Austro-Hungarian squad to take cover. Plenty of room to give Leonie and the command squad time to reorganize themselves. Sylvain’s blood dripped onto the dirt as a captain dragged him back to his horse, haphazardly heaving him upon it as the division continued to retreat and harassed by enemy fire the entire way. An officer Leonie didn’t recall the name of took charge as Sylvain was wounded, dispatching scouts to ride at full speed back to the river nearly six hundred meters away to bring up the reserve companies.</p><p> </p><p>Shell impacts and the snaps of rifle fire still filled Leonie’s ears, as much as she would love to hear literally anything else right now. Was she going insane, or was the distance to the river<em> increasing</em> rather than growing shorter? Soldiers carried one another towards the river, some wounded and some not. Riderless horses galloped towards unknown destinations. Finally, the Dniester River was in sight with Russian troops already waiting. Russian machine guns opened up and fired over Leonie’s head as the lead company began crossing. Leonie looked back across the opposite shore and saw the enemy had met them at the riverbank but did not pursue, firing on them from their side of the Dniester.</p><p> </p><p>The division retreated into a forest that began about a hundred meters away from the river, only stopping when sufficiently convinced that the Austro-Hungarian artillery was out of range. On the orders of the command staff, the division dug in and prepared for a long day in the field. A wave of despair fell over the camp, especially once the division came down from the adrenaline and accounted for who had been lost in the attack. Medics and doctors surrounded Sylvain, poking at him and tearing at his uniform to figure out where the bullet had struck him. The scores of wounded Russians were an afterthought to the medical staff as they dragged Sylvain away into a tent marked with a red cross. Leonie tried to follow, but the medics pushed her out within seconds in a flurry of Russian she didn’t understand.</p><p> </p><p>As Leonie came off the high of combat herself, the impact of what had just happened dawned on her. She had picked up a <em>rifle.</em> Sylvain had gotten <em>shot.</em> The division she was supposed to be shadowing had lost possibly half its numbers in the span of only a few hours. All because the plan hadn’t gone as expected. Leonie found herself wandering like a lost spirit among the hastily-dug foxholes where Sylvain’s soldiers brought out bread, drank water, or tended to their own wounds. Watching the wounded men wrap bandages around themselves or use their canteens to wash away the blood made her think of Sylvain. She was watching the blood fly out from him and Jeralt over and over again in her mind. Reliving the pained expression on Sylvain’s face, the twisted agony of seeing the bullet slam into him, and remembering how violently she had reacted. Every shooting lesson she ever had with Shamir emphasized keeping a cool head. Today, there had been nothing but rage fueling her shots.</p><p> </p><p>The midday sun had turned to a dimming yellow, with rays of sunlight shining down in between the leaves that made the entire camp look like one of the many paintings at Garreg Mach. Where was Sylvain? Where had they taken him? Leonie searched for him, desperate to find out. The hasty nature of their retreat and subsequent groundbreaking for camp made for a disorienting, confusing probe. Each hastily built tent and isolated refuge turned out to be just another dead end, and for a moment Leonie believed that Sylvain had been taken to the rear, never to be seen again.</p><p> </p><p>As the night fell, Leonie’s search only intensified. She was barred from the medical tent for reasons unknown, told in broken French to go somewhere else. The half-finished foxholes never once hosted Sylvain, not that she expected that. Junior officers were more concerned with shoring up their defenses rather than wondering where Sylvain was and were of no help. Leonie had given up hope entirely until she conducted another perimeter sweep. Oh God, she’d found him. All at once the pressure and stress of not having any goddamn clue where he was washed away. Her shoulders finally relaxed having been tight with tension in her mad search.</p><p> </p><p>He still remained surrounded, though this time it was by officers from his staff rather than medics. Each one sat around him with maps and papers in hand, arguing with each other in Russian.</p><p>“Uh, hey, Sylvain,” she said hesitantly.</p><p>Sylvain’s face was hard-set, concentrating deeply on what the maps and reports were telling him no doubt. He looked up, and his expression immediately softened. “Good evening, Leonie. I’m glad you’re okay.” Sylvain grunted as he looked down at his wounded arm with clear disdain. “I just don’t know how the intelligence could have been so wrong. Everything pointed to the enemy being weak, on their last legs in this area… I guess I should have known it was too good to be true.”</p><p>“Can you dismiss everyone?” Leonie asked in English.</p><p>The sudden switch caught Sylvain off guard, but he complied anyway. He waited until the others had left – not that they would understand their English anyway – and gave her a cautious glance. “Uh, can I ask what that was about?”</p><p>“You almost <em>died</em> out there,” she said, folding her arms. “Sylvain, this is… this is serious. I’m supposed to be here observing your unit, but I can’t observe anything if you’re <em>dead.</em>”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay…” Sylvain said, rubbing his neck. “Look, I know how this might appear, but-”</p><p>“But nothing! Sylvain, I’m supposed to be an observer! Do you know what I did today? I picked up a <em>rifle</em> and I <em>shot at enemy soldiers!</em> That is <em>so</em> far outside of my orders that it may as well be on another <em>continent!</em>”</p><p>“Right, that’s not exactly <em>ideal</em> but you didn’t have much of a choice,” Sylvain pointed out. “I don’t think they’ll be stopping to ask if you’re an observer or not while we’re on the front lines.”</p><p>Leonie narrowed her eyes. “And <em>whose</em> fault is that?”</p><p>“Um. Common sense?” Sylvain suggested, shrugging. “Survival instincts?”</p><p>“<em>Yours!</em>”</p><p>Sylvain sat like a statue. Had she actually succeeded in making him tongue-tied for once in his life? After several agonizingly slow moments, he found his voice again. “What?”</p><p> </p><p>She clenched her fists, doing her best to remember to count back from ten before saying anything. “<em>You</em> put me on the front lines, Sylvain. Division commanders aren’t supposed to be leading cavalry charges, you know!”</p><p>“Well, I-”</p><p>“And to top it off, <em>you got shot!</em>”</p><p>Sylvain shook his head violently, jabbing a finger towards her. “Okay, that’s <em>definitely</em> not my fault!”</p><p>“Of course it is!” Leonie shouted, just barely stopping herself from reaching over and strangling him. “You’d be <em>dead</em> if I hadn’t forced that enemy squad to back off!”</p><p>He threw his good arm wide as he scoffed. “Well, if I had known you’d just <em>yell</em> at me for getting injured, I’d have asked you to <em>observe</em> me bleed out!”</p><p>“Oh, real mature, Sylvain,” Leonie mocked, rolling her eyes. “Do you even hear yourself? ‘Yeah Leonie, just watch the man you love die before your eyes, real easy!’”</p><p> </p><p>Leonie stopped herself, staring into space as she realized<em> precisely</em> what she had just shouted.<em> Okay, great job, Leonie.</em> She didn’t dare look and confirm that half the camp were throwing confused glances their way, afraid that her face – which, by the way, was quickly turning a lovely shade of red – would tell the entire story. Half of her wanted to reach out and do her best to claw the words back into her throat and act like she had never even said anything to begin with. The other half wanted to get back on her horse and ride as fast as possible right back to the United States. Sylvain didn’t move save for the subtle rise and fall of his chest.</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry, my ears are still ringing from the artillery. I must not have heard you right,” Sylvain said, smacking the side of his head like he was trying to knock some dirt out of his ears. “Despite… well, you yelling. Did I just hear you say you loved me?”</p><p>Leonie swallowed hard, sitting down next to Sylvain. Well, couldn’t pull back those words now. Her first instinct was to run the hell away to St. Petersburg and get on the first boat all the way back to the United States and live the rest of her life as a hermit. She’d spent too much time running away from this. Leonie had to own up to it here and now.“No, you heard me loud and clear,” she said quietly, doing her best to keep her voice low just in case Sylvain’s men suddenly became expert translators. “I never wanted to admit it back at the monastery, but… I don’t want to lose you, Sylvain, and if this war keeps going on… I don’t know if I can stay here to keep you safe.”</p><p>“Keep <em>me</em> safe?” he said, weakly chuckling. “You’re a guest here, I should be keeping <em>you</em> safe. But… you said back at the monastery?”</p><p>“Yeah, during the ball. When you followed me up the Saint’s Tower and we danced there, that was… that was the night I fell in love with you.”</p><p> </p><p>She looked up to see Sylvain’s eyes glimmer, no doubt reliving that night. It had been a good time for all of them. No war, no politics, not even <em>classes</em> to worry about. That December evening had been the perfect excuse for the cadets to slow down and have an official reason to flirt with the people they’d been studying alongside for nearly a year. Despite her own misgivings about that night, it had ended well for Leonie as well and even today remained something she looked back on fondly. Though, the unfortunate counterpart was that she also thought a lot about how she’d spent three years staying silent when she stared at the bottom of a bottle of beer or a shot glass. Leonie couldn’t count how many times she had been at a bar drinking her pay away and regretting not saying a damn thing.</p><p> </p><p>She wouldn’t have bet that it’d taken a war in Europe to get her to actually tell him.</p><p> </p><p>“That… is a lot to take in,” Sylvain finally said, wincing as he moved about nervously. “I… why not tell me sooner, Leonie? At least then I could have told you I love you too.”</p><p>Leonie’s face flushed even more and her heart fluttered. Was this real? Was she in some sort of fever dream right now? Or was this some cruel, twisted product of a dying mind? Had<em> she</em> been the one shot? “You… still love me?”</p><p>“Of course,” Sylvain said, taking her hands in his. “I meant what I said in that tower. Honestly, I prayed that you’d say yes. I prayed to every saint I knew that we could be together. When you didn’t say anything… well, I thought my prayers had been ignored.”</p><p>Sylvain breathed out slowly, pulling Leonie close to him. The brim of her campaign hat bent backwards as she was drawn ever closer, his breath just barely reaching her nose. Was he really about to do this? Was <em>she</em> really just about to do this? Were they actually going to kiss each other right here in some forest in the middle of Europe when there was a war going on?</p><p> </p><p>The crack of gunfire pulled Leonie out of the clouds. Shouting consumed the camp as she looked up, spotting Sylvain’s troops preparing weapons and firing at unseen targets. One of his officers ran over to them, a rifle in his hands, looking panicked.</p><p>“We’re surrounded!” he reported, just in time for Austro-Hungarian artillery to fire on them. The typewriter-like clatter of the division’s Maxim guns echoed and mixed with rifles and the whinnies of horses as Leonie scanned the area. Mere glimpses of black uniforms dashed between trees, the only clue there was even somebody out there.</p><p>“What’s the plan, Sylvain?” Leonie asked, looking back over at him.</p><p>He paused, turning his head every which way possible to assess the situation for himself. His eyes wide, he leaned down and picked up a rifle, shoving it into Leonie’s hands. “We fight.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. The Breakout</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Under siege, Sylvain and Leonie attempt to affect the future of Sylvain's beleaguered division.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Somewhere south of Lemberg, Russian-occupied Eastern Galicia</em>
</p><p>
  <em>September 17<sup>th</sup>, 1914</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The burning trees gave off an otherwise pleasant smell, were it not joined with the definite iron scent of blood and spent cartridges in the air. Ammo casings piled up in front of the Maxim guns, half the crewmen dead. Others anxiously watched the dawn for a glimpse of the Austro-Hungarian soldiers. Blood stained the grass, the trees, and nearly every uniform around Leonie. Her rifle was hot, refusing to cool down from the night’s combat. She couldn’t keep her hands from shaking. Leonie hadn’t gotten hit, thankfully, and Sylvain was also safe from further injuries. At least for them, the night wouldn’t end in a grave.</p><p> </p><p>Last night… Leonie shuddered to think about it. They must have spent all night fighting. The Austro-Hungarians had used some sort of grenade that set fires nearly twenty feet wide, if not more, resulting in fires that still raged unchecked. Those who were still relatively healthy tried to put out fires with any means available from running buckets of water back and forth to literally pissing on them. Some had been put out, but the majority… well, Leonie could still smell the bodies. If her hands would stop shaking enough for her to actually <em>write</em> anything in her notebook, she’d send the entire thing back home with desperate words pleading for anyone and everyone to never get the United States involved in a war. If this mere snapshot was how this war was unfolding all over Europe, then it wasn’t worth it. How had Jeralt ever coped with this?</p><p> </p><p>Another salvo started up as the distant booms echoed. The Austro-Hungarian infantry had pulled back when dawn broke, and the enemy preferred to use their artillery to keep them on edge and afraid. Each renewed attack put the camp on full alert and forced Leonie to hug the earth in her little foxhole. She could do little else but sit, wait and pray.</p><p> </p><p>The Austro-Hungarians must have been feeling generous – their barrage this time only lasted twenty minutes instead of the usual thirty. As the last shells began to fall and a quiet settled over the camp again, Sylvain low-crawled to her foxhole.</p><p>“Hey Leonie,” Sylvain whispered. He kept himself as small as possible, just in case the enemy was still lurking out there ready to launch another attack. “We’re heading out.”</p><p>“Where are we going?”</p><p>Sylvain looked out to the burning forest with a forlorn expression on his face. “Back to Lemberg. The offensive failed, so we’re pulling back to reorganize.”</p><p>She sluggishly nodded, unable to take her eyes off the misery surrounding her. Was this the sort of mayhem that Jeralt had seen in Cuba? Was that why he had never come back to Grand Junction, why he’d retired from the Army? “What if they follow us?”</p><p>“Then we break off and keep going,” Sylvain replied. He grabbed her hand, pulling her up off the ground and meeting her eyes. “Come on, let’s go. We should get away from here.”</p><p> </p><p>Leonie and Sylvain joined the rest of the division as it packed up its things to move on, marching along old roads and muddy trails pocked by holes from the previous night’s artillery barrage. At least thirty of the horses had no riders or were hosting men that were unfamiliar with them, slowing their progress. Their marching took the better part of the day, marred by the mood of an anxious division expecting an attack at any moment. Leonie tried to sleep in the saddle on the way back, but her dreams were filled with nightmares, twisted horrors in which she and Sylvain were trapped in a blazing inferno. German became the language of demons in her nightmares as blood-red eyes stared out at them from the trees like they were circling them, waiting for a chance to strike.</p><p> </p><p>By the time they reached Lemberg, another evening was creeping in and Leonie was even more exhausted than she had been before, literally strapping herself into the saddle to keep from falling off. Not much had changed in the estate the Russians had seized, other than a minor change of guard when Sylvain’s troops entered Lemberg. The same dim yellow lights turned on when night approached, the same scattered voices called out to one another, and the same creaky bed awaited her. And, of course, the same unusual feeling of familiarity, like she somehow <em>knew</em> something about this place. Grabbing a bottle of vodka – two, actually – she headed back to her room, intending to drink away every memory of the previous night and sleep it all off.</p><p> </p><p>“This is the estate of the von Varley family, you know,” Sylvain said, lightly rapping on the door jamb. He came in without his usual swagger, instead just looking defeated as he took a chair and swung it around, facing Leonie and her bottles of vodka. “I didn’t even realize until we searched it.”</p><p>“Why do I know that name?” she asked, holding up a shot glass to Sylvain. “Drink?” She intended to use it for herself, but if he was going to drink with her, better to at least be a proper officer and offer him the glass. Wouldn’t be the first time she drank straight from the bottle, either.</p><p>Sylvain nodded, allowing Leonie to pour a shot for him. “Bernadetta. From the Black Eagles class? This is her land. Or, her father’s? I don’t remember. It probably <em>is</em> hers now, since we didn’t find her father here.”</p><p>Right. Leonie remembered now. Quiet girl, didn’t speak much to… well, anyone at all, really. She couldn’t remember hearing Bernadetta’s voice a single time during her stay at Garreg Mach. Bernadetta must have worn her family’s crest on her person, or she must have seen it on one of the banners at the Academy, or something like that. Could have been any number of ways. All she knew was she recognized the emblems engraved on the grand doors to the entrance of the manor, as well as the crest on the stained glass window that heralded the end of the hall to Leonie’s room.</p><p> </p><p>The harsh burn of the vodka felt pretty good tonight. With luck, she would be able to forget everything about September sixteenth. Lately though, luck was in short supply. Try as she might, the only thing she had on her mind was the war.</p><p>“Sylvain, this war… it’s going to kill us all.”</p><p>“Hey, don’t talk like that,” he admonished, frowning. He threw back the shot and poured himself another. “We’ll make it out of this, I promise.”</p><p>“How?” Leonie demanded, furrowing her brow. “How can you possibly promise something like that? Are you actually insane?”</p><p>Sylvain took the shot and slammed the glass down on the dresser next to him. He reached across and took Leonie’s hands, looking into her eyes. “I have faith that we will. Look, all of this… the war, us meeting each other, you being here… there’s a reason behind it, I’m sure.”</p><p> </p><p>Exhaling deeply, Leonie tightened her grip around Sylvain’s hands. He must really believe in all this. Sometimes, Leonie envied him. Leonie had only been in this fight for one battle, one horrific fight. Sylvain had been fighting since June. How many miles had <em>he</em> walked through Hell? How he was able to maintain this positive attitude despite the war amazed her. If Sylvain can still be positive after all this time, then surely Leonie could be positive after a single battle.</p><p>“I must be going crazy,” she said quietly, a whisper of a laugh escaping her lips. “But I believe you. I don’t know what it is, but I feel like I can follow you anywhere.” She got lost in Sylvain’s eyes imaging, if only for a brief moment, that there was no war and they were free to do what they wanted. Was she actually losing it, or did she hear wedding bells?</p><p> </p><p><em>Wait, no.</em> She <em>was</em> hearing bells. The bell-ringing grew in intensity, joined by panicked Russian and the sound of familiar gunshots. A horrified expression crossed Sylvain’s face and he immediately jumped up from his chair. Leonie followed Sylvain out to the streets of Lemberg, where pandemonium had struck his division. Leonie saw warfare reminiscent of the late 18<sup>th</sup> century rather than a modern battlefield as Austro-Hungarian cavalry with swords and lances overran Russian soldiers. The cavalry leaped over the trenches with ease, circling back to catch Russians trying to link up with reinforcements from the town. Friendly infantry tried to engage the riders, but soon were cut off and flanked by the Austro-Hungarians. Blood ran on the cobblestone and marked the wooden field posts that dotted the camp.</p><p> </p><p>“We have to get out of here,” Leonie said, heading to the stables. No time to go back and get anything. They had to leave, and<em> now. </em></p><p>“Let’s go!” Sylvain yelled. “Retreat!”</p><p>Soldiers joined them as they mounted their horses, escaping from the hell of the Austro-Hungarian assault. This must have been a mopping-up force, intended to destroy the remnants of Sylvain’s division. Leonie patted her tunic pocket, fear overriding any other emotion. Her challenge coin was still safe and sound, thankfully. Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for Sylvain’s 187<sup>th</sup> Mounted Rifles Division. Leonie counted only a dozen soldiers escaping on horseback.</p><p> </p><p>She didn’t know how long they had been riding when they reached the closest friendly unit, the neighboring 22<sup>nd</sup> Infantry Division. Sylvain and Leonie immediately headed for an impromptu debrief. Lemberg was assumed lost, a fact which wasn’t confirmed until other survivors trickled in. Captain Subbotin claimed his company had lost half its men either to death or imprisonment. <em>Polkovnik</em> Tolkachyov reported that the division as a whole was no longer fit to fight, and said when he left Lemberg the von Varley estate was in Austro-Hungarian hands.</p><p> </p><p>Sylvain ordered the survivors to join the line and help with a potential defense just in case the Austrians had pursued them once again. A runner from the 22<sup>nd</sup> reported that the 4<sup>th</sup> Army commander released a reserve division to join the front lines in order to bolster their defenses even further. In her mind, Leonie wasn’t entirely convinced that the Austro-Hungarians wouldn’t chase them even further, but her body needed sleep, and <em>now.</em></p><p> </p><p>The second her head hit the pillow, Leonie was out cold.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>Kiev, Russian Empire</em>
</p><p>
  <em>September 18<sup>th</sup>, 1914</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“So, that settles it, unfortunately,” Sylvain said, rubbing his forehead. His wounded arm now in a sling, professionally bandaged by the medics far behind the lines. Even the dirt on his uniform was gone, replaced by a fresh one devoid of imperfections. Unfortunately, the rushed retreat and frequency of the Austro-Hungarian attacks meant his division had taken too many casualties, and with Sylvain himself wounded, this dictated a stay at the rear for rest and refit. And, of course, accepting replacement soldiers and training them.</p><p>“Yeah, it does,” she said, pensively tapping on her hat’s brim as she held it in front of her. What a cruel fate, to reunite with Sylvain only to be forced away after a week. In order to keep observing the war, the attache in Moscow arranged for Leonie to shadow another division. Which… meant leaving Sylvain and <em>his</em> division behind in Kiev. “I wish there was a way that we could meet up after the war.”</p><p>He sighed, looking out the window at a picturesque Kiev. Leonie stared out as well. Who would have figured this was part of a country at war? It didn’t look like it to her. If anything Kiev was unnaturally peaceful, a sharp contrast to the front in Lemberg. Here, the buildings were still intact, and the people went about their business as usual.</p><p>“I could write to you in the United States,” he said. “Surely that’s an option?”</p><p>“That doesn’t compare to seeing you. We shouldn’t spend this war waiting on letters that might never come.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, we should figure out <em>something,”</em> Sylvain said. He rested his chin on his hand, deep in thought for a few moments before his eyes lit up. “I know! After the war, we’ll meet at Garreg Mach. Whoever owns it, it doesn’t matter, let’s just go. There, we can figure out what to do together.”</p><p>“That… sounds nice. Tell you what… just to make sure you don’t chicken out at the last minute, how about a little extra incentive?”</p><p>Sylvain gave her an odd look, tilting his head. “What do you mean?”</p><p>“Take this,” Leonie said, pulling out her challenge coin and putting it in his hand. “And I’ll take your Order of the Blue Lion medal.”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you sure?” he asked, blinking rapidly. “I know how much this means to you. If something happens to me and I can’t get this back to you, you won’t have anything of Colonel Jeralt.”</p><p>“They’re things that are precious to both of us. They’ll be reminders for us, to make sure we don’t get ourselves killed out there, a promise we’ll return to each other after this war ends.”</p><p>Sylvain looked at the coin in his hand ashe turned it over and studied it intensely, before nodding sharply and meeting her eyes. “Alright. A promise to us, then.” Sylvain unpinned his Order of the Blue Lion medal and handed it over. Immediately, Leonie was struck by how hefty it really was. Was this thing made of solid brass? Maybe she ought to learn Russian, at least enough to actually read the inscription.</p><p>“I promise,” she said to him, leaning down and giving him a peck on his cheek. “I’ll bring this back to you. You better keep that coin safe for me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course,” he said. “I promise.”</p><p>Leonie smiled, already missing him even though she hadn’t left yet. “I have to get going now,” Leonie said. “I’ll see you on the other side of the war, okay?”</p><p>“I’ll see you there. I love you, Leonie.”</p><p>“I love you, Sylvain.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>Garreg Mach Monastery, Austria-Hungary</em>
</p><p>
  <em>January 4<sup>th</sup>, 1919</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The cold stung at her cheeks as Leonie tugged at the Army-issued greatcoat, moving across the abandoned parade ground of Garreg Mach. To think that twelve years ago Leonie had been a starry-eyed Second Lieutenant here was almost… fantastical. Even after twelve years and a war, Garreg Mach still held the same mysticism and ethereal energy that she remembered. Sure, the ancient stained glass windows and pillars had been broken many years ago and rubble still lay scattered about, but coming back here felt almost like coming back home.</p><p> </p><p>Leonie heard from local merchants that Empress Edelgard planned to restore the monastery, turn it into a secular institution and teach officers once more. At present it was abandoned, forgotten by the local garrison and neglected by the massive corps of construction workers tasked with rebuilding the Empire after its victory in favor of more critical infrastructure.</p><p> </p><p>Leonie toured their old dorm rooms on her way to visit the greenhouse, which unfortunately was no longer lush with life. The grounds had pieces of broken brick scattered about, and cracks from bullet holes and artillery strikes marred every surface, but underneath it all was the same Garreg Mach she remembered.</p><p> </p><p>Even the classrooms felt familiar. It was like she could blink and see the entire Golden Deer class here now, waiting for Professor Eisner to start teaching. Hell, she could even hear Professor Eisner’s German, laced with occasional English or stilted French. To think just twelve years ago, she had sat in these classrooms and roamed these halls, a chip on her shoulder and ready to tackle any challenge. Silently, Leonie wondered how many of the other Golden Deer had made it to the end of the war and debated reaching out to Claude to see about a reunion.</p><p> </p><p>She glanced up at the Saints Tower, still standing even despite the destruction wrought all around it. How had nobody taken it out? It must have been a prime sniper’s nest. Maybe the warring powers held too much respect for God and his disciples to destroy the tower. Maybe Sylvain was up there now. It was perfectly in character for him – have her search all over the monastery, only to find him in the spot where they first fell in love.</p><p> </p><p>Leonie climbed the steps, the off-kilter ones tripping her up just like they had in 1907.The thought of seeing Sylvain again made Leonie excited and entirely too careless, causing her to slip continually on the steps. At the top, she expected to find Sylvain standing there, looking out at Hradec Králové just as she had on that December night. Instead, she found nothing.</p><p> </p><p>…Where was he? Surely the impossible hadn’t happened. She hadn’t just spent all this time surviving this stupid war just for him to go and <em>die</em>, right? Leonie felt her smile fading as her heart sank down to the darkest of pits. She stared into space, slack-jawed as she wrestled with the idea that he might have died somewhere in Europe, unable to fulfill his promise to her. She tried to swallow but her throat refused to cooperate, already itchy with grief.</p><p> </p><p>“Miss me?”</p><p>That voice. That alone she could recognize anywhere. Leonie whipped around, already smiling as she ran into Sylvain’s arms. He squeezed her even before she came to a stop, and for the first time since the war began all was right with the world. There was no war to worry about, no greater conflict that would drive them apart. They could finally settle down and just <em>be.</em> They broke from their embrace only long enough to kiss each other deeply and passionately, relishing every moment of their reunion.</p><p>“Did you bring…?” Leonie asked, pulling back.</p><p>Sylvain smirked and winked at her, pulling her challenge coin out of his pocket. “I promised I’d keep it safe.” He handed her the coin, which she happily exchanged for his medal. Now everything <em>truly</em> was correct and right. “So, my lady, where to next?”</p><p>“Anywhere we want, I think,” Leonie breathed. “We’re in a totally different world now. Anything’s possible.”</p><p>“Last time we were here, I took the lead. I think… yeah, I think I’ll let you lead the way this time.”</p><p> </p><p>Leonie smiled, lifting up Sylvain’s hand as if to begin a dance. The future was open to them. Russia, America, even deciding to eschew the old and embrace the new in another country… the possibilities were endless. All that mattered was she was by his side. Leonie would never have believed that her life would end up like this, and yet here she was. She had joined the Army, earned the right to command her own troop, gone to Garreg Mach and come out of a war on the better side of it. She’d even managed to find love at Garreg Mach.</p><p> </p><p>When she was ten, being just like Jeralt had been her only goal. Two decades later, she realized that being like him was all well and good, but Leonie was more than just Jeralt’s teachings and ideals. She’d grown into her own, broke the mold she set for herself. She’d become herself, similar to Jeralt but distinct all her own. In the end, being just like Leonie mattered more than being just like Jeralt.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>As per usual, a thank you to everybody who's read, left kudos, and commented! I appreciate all of them.</p><p>Another thank you to my beta Coyote, who put up with me and my absurd questions whenever I screwed something up (I deeply apologize for everything wrong I did the first time you read some of these battles). This fic would be a lot less polished and refined without you!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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